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at jhttp : //books . qooqle . com/ 



a 34 *m u/ouauuy y 



THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY 

Attor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations 



BEQUEST OF 

MRS. HENRY DRAPER 

1915 



*) 



Anna Jklmrr Draprr 




/ K > 



T -.;r; - 







Captain Walkkr's Introduction to Moroiana. 



F 



K 






tuition toe luxe 



v Ar 



BALLADS 
MEN'S WIVES 



BY 



WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY 




WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 



• • • 



BOSTON 

FSTES & LAURIAT 
1 891 



THE NEW YORK 

PUBLIC LIBRARY 

687524 

AITOR, LENOX AN* 
TH.OCN FOUNOATIOim. 



Gdition de luxe. 

Limited to One Thousand Copies. 
No* 639 



TYPOGRAPHY, ELBCTROTYPING, AND 
PRINTING BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 
UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 



CONTENTS. 



BALLADS. 



The Chronicle of thb Drum. Part 1 1 

Thb Chronicle of the Drum. Part II 8 

Abd-sl-Kadbr at Toulon ; Or, the Caoed Haw* . . 16 

The Kino of Brentford's Testament 18 

The White Squall 85 

Pig of Limavaddy 29 

May-Day Ode 84 

The Ballad of Bouillabaisse ........ 39 

The Mahogany Tree 41 

The Tanxbb Volunteers 43 

The Pen and the Album 45 

Mrs. Kathbrinb'8 Lantern 48 

Lucy's Birthday 49 

The Cans-Bottom'd Chair 50 

PisCATOB AND PlSCATRIX 5% - 

The Bose upon my Balcony .-•-•:. •&*' 

konsard to his ml stress •v j v,' -. v: *'54 . 

At the Church Gate \V--:' : . 'J^V 

The Age of Wisdom VsT^.Jft* - 

Sorrows of Wbrthbr \ „ */&*,, 

A Dob in the City \. '•}£$ '- 

The Last of May V»**69 

" Ah, Bleak and Barren was the Moor " . . . . 60 

Song of the Violet 61 

Fairy Days 61 

Pocahontas 68 

Prom Pocahontas 64 



iv CONTENTS. 

Loye-Songs Made East : via 

What makes my Heart to Thrill and GlowP . 65 
The Ghazul, or Oriental Love-Song : 

The Rocks 67 

The Mebry Bard 68 

The CaIque 68 

My Nora 69 

To Mary 70 

Serenade 71 

The Minaret Bells 71 

Gome to the Greenwood Tree 72 

Five German Ditties : 

A Tragic Story 73 

The Chaplet 74 

The King on the Tower 75 

On a very Old Woman 75 

A Credo 76 

Pour Imitations of Beranger : 

Le Roi d'Yvetot 78 

The King of Yvetot 79 

The King of Brentford (another version) 81 

Lb Grenier 82 

The Garret 83 

boger bontemps 84 

1/ • „ Jolly Jack 86 

. ImTT AilON- *P.*HORACE : 

■V*.*V fp/pwr'SERviNG Boy 89 

**••.• V Ad Ministram 89 

••• 

.•9t> ."Friends with New Faces: 

'Wi Knightly Guerdon 91 

The Almack'8 Adieu 92 

When the Gloom is on the Glen 93 

The Red Flag 94 

Dear Jack 95 

Commanders of the Faithful 95 



CONTENTS. 



Whbn Moonukb orb thb Haxubb 8bas ... 96 

King Canute 96 

Friar's Song 100 

Atra. Cuba 101 

Kequibscat 101 

Lines upon my Sister's Portrait 102 

The Legend of St. Sophia, of Kioff 104 

Titmarsh's Carmen Lilliense 123 

Thb Willow-Tree 126 

Thb Willow-Tree (another version) .... 128 

LtRA HiBERNICA : 

Thb Pimuco Patilioh 131 

Thb Crystal Palace 133 

Molony'8 Lament 138 

Mr. Molony's Account of thb Ball given to 
thb Nbpaulbsb Ambassador bt thb Peninsula 

and Oriental Company 140 

The Battle of Limerick 143 

Larry 0*Toolb 146 

Thb Rose of Flora 147 

Thb Last Irish Grievance 148 

Thb Ballads of Policeman X : 

Thb Woflb Nbw Ballad of Jane Roney and 

Mart Brown 150 

Thb Three Christmas Waits 152 

Lines on a Late Hospicious Ewbnt 157 

The Ballad of Eliza Davis 160 

Damages, Two Hundred Pounds ...... 164 

The Knight and the Lady 166 

Jacob Homnium's Hoss: A nbw Pallice Court 

Chant 169 

The Speculators 173 

A Woful New Ballad of the Protestant Con- 
spiracy TO TAKE THB POPE'S LlFE 175 

Thb Lamentable Ballad of the Foundling of 

8horeditch 177 



vi CONTENTS. 

TAOB 

The Organ-Bot's Appeal .181 

LlTTLE Billes 188 

The End of the Plat 184 

Vanitab Vanitatum 186 



MEN'8 WIVES. 
The Ravenswtng: 



L Which is entirely Introductory — Con- 
tains an Account op Miss Crump, her 
Suitors, and her Family Circle . . 191 
II. In which Mr. Walker makes Three At- 
tempts to ascertain the Dwelling op 
Moroiana 218 

III. What cams op Mr. Walker's Discovert 

op the "Bootjack" 234 

IV. In which the Heroine has a Number 

more loyers, and cuts a tbrt dashing 

Figure in the World 247 

V. In which Mr. Walker palls into Diffi- 
culties and Mrs. Walker makes mant 
Foolish Attempts to rescue him . . 273 
VI. In which Mr. Walker still remains in 
Difficulties, but shows great Resig- 
nation under his Misfortunes . . . 298 
VII. In which Morgiana advances towards 
Fame and Honor, and in which sev- 
eral GREAT LlTERART CHARACTERS MAKE 

their Appearance 315 

Vm. In which Mr. Walker shows great Pru- 
dence and Forbearance 336 

Mr. and Mrs. Frank Berrt : 

L The Fight at Slaughter House ... 355 
IL The Combat at Versailles 364 

Dennis Haggartt's Wipe 387 



LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS. 
MEN'8 WIVES. 

TAQm 

Captain Walker's Introduction to Moegiana Frontispiece 

Not altogbtheb unexpected 235 

Thb Last Days of the " Kidney Club " 248 

Poor Moegiana 285 

Am Innocent Tbaitoe 309 

p&epaeing job a debut 323 

Old Schoolfellows 366 

A Desebtbd Husband 412 



BALLADS. 



BALLADS. 



THE CHRONICLE OF THE DRUM. 

PABT I. 

At Paris, hard by the Maine barriers, 

Whoever will choose to repair, 
Midst a dozen of wooden-legged warriors 

May haply fall in with old Pierre. 
On the sunshiny bench of a tavern 

He sits and he prates of old wars, 
And moistens his pipe of tobacco 

With a drink that is named after Mars. 

The beer makes his tongue run the quicker, 

And as long as his tap never fails, 
Thus oyer his favorite liquor 

Old Peter will tell his old tales. 
Says he, " In my life's ninety summers 

Strange changes and chances I 're seen, — 
So here's to all gentlemen drummers 

That ever have thump'd on a skin. 

" Brought up in the art military 

For four generations we are ; 
My ancestors drumm'd for King Harry, 

The Huguenot lad of Navarre. 
And as each man in life has his station 

According as Fortune may fix, 
While Condi was waving the baton, 

My grandsire was trolling the sticks. 

TOL. XXIX. — 1 



BALLADS. 

" Ah ! those were the days for commanders ! 

What glories my grandfather won, 
Ere bigots, and lackeys, and panders 

The fortunes of France had undone ! 
In Germany, Flanders, and Holland, — 

What foeman resisted us then ? 
No ; my grandsire was ever victorious, 

My grandsire and Monsieur Turenne. 

" He died : and our noble battalions 

The jade fickle Fortune forsook ; 
And at Blenheim, in spite of our valianoe, 

The victory lay with Malbrook. 
The news it was brought to King Louis ; 

Corbleu ! how his Majesty swore 
When he heard they had taken my grandsire : 

And twelve thousand gentlemen more. 

"At Namur, Ramillies, and Malplaquet 

Were we posted, on plain or in trench : 
, Malbrook only need to attack it 

And away from him scampered we French. 
Cheer up ! 'tis no use to be glum, boys, — 

'T is written, since fighting begun, 
That sometimes we fight and we conquer, 

And sometimes we fight and we run. 

" To fight and to run was our (ate : 

Our fortune and fame had departed. 
And so perish'd Louis the Great, — 

Old, lonely, and half broken-hearted. 
His coffin they pelted with mud, 

His body they tried to lay hands on ; 
And so having buried King Louis 

They loyally served his great-grandson. 

" God save the beloved King Louis 1 
(For so he was nicknamed by some) ; 

And now came my father to do his 
King's orders and beat on the drum. 



BALLADS. 

My grandsire was dead, but his bones 
Must have shaken 1 'm certain for joy, 

To hear daddy dramming the English 
From the meadows of famed Fontenoy. 

" So well did he drum in that battle 

That the enemy show'd us their backs; 
Gorbleu ! it was pleasant to rattle 

The sticks and to follow old Saxe ! 
We next had Soubise as a leader, 

And as luck hath its changes and fits, 
At Rossbach, in spite of dad's dramming, 

'T is said we were beaten by Fritz. 

" And now daddy cross'd the Atlantic, 

To drum for Montcalm and his men ; 
Morbleu ! but it makes a man frantic 

To think we were beaten again ! 
My daddy he cross'd the wide ocean, 

My mother brought me on her neck, 
And we came in the year fifty-seven 

To guard the good town of Quebec. 

" In the year fifty-nine came the Britons, — 

Full well I remember the day, — 
They knocked at our gates for admittance, 

Their vessels were moored in our bay. 
8ays our general, ' Drive me yon red-coats 

Away to the sea whence they come ! ' 
So we marched against Wolfe and his buU-dogt, 

We marched at the sound of the drum. 

"J think I can see my poor mammy 

With me in her hand as she waits, 
And our regiment, slowly retreating, 

Pours back through the citadel gates. 
Dear mammy she looks in their faces, 

And asks if her husband is come P 
— He is lying all cold on the glacis, 

And will never more beat on the drum. 



BALLADSL 

" Come, drink, 't is no use to be glum, boys, 

He died like a soldier in glory ; 
Here 's a glass to the health of all drum-boys, 

And now I '11 commence my own story. 
Once more did we cross the salt ocean, 

We came in the year eighty-one ; 
And the wrongs of my father the drummer 

Were avenged by the drummer his son. 

" In Chesapeake Bay we were landed. 

In Tain strove the British to pass : 
Boohambeau our armies commanded, 

Oar ships they were led by De Grasse. 
Morbleu ! how I rattled the drumsticks 

The day we march'd into Yorktown ; 
Ten thousand of beef-eating British 

Their weapons we caused to lay down. 

" Then homewards returning victorious, 

In peace to our country we came, 
And were thanked for our glorious actions 

By Louis Sixteenth of the name. 
What drummer on earth could be prouder 
» Than I, while I drumm'd at Versailles 
To the lovely court ladies in powder, 
And lappets, and long satin-tails P 

" The princes that day pass'd before us, 

Our countrymen's glory and hope; 
Monsieur, who was learned in Horace, 

D'Artois, who could dance the tight-rope. 
One night we kept guard for the Queen 

At her Majesty's opera-box, 
While the King, that majestical monarch, 

Sat filing at home at his locks. 

" Yes, I drumm'd for the fair Antoinette, 
And so smiling she look'd and so tender, 

That our officers, privates, and drummers 
All vow'd they would die to defend her. 



BALLADS. 

Bat she cared not for us honest fellows, 
Who fought and who bled in her wars, 

8he sneer'd at our gallant Rochambeau, 
And turned Lafayette out of doors. 

" Ventrebleu ! then I swore a great oath, 

No more to such tyrants to kneel 
And so just to keep up my drumming, 

One day I drumm'd down the Bastille. 
Ho, landlord ! a stoup of fresh wine. 

Come, comrades, a bumper we '11 try, 
And drink to the year eighty-nine 

And the glorious fourth of July ! 

" Then bravely our cannon it tbunderM 

As onwards our patriots bore. 
Our enemies were but a hundred, 

And we twenty thousand or more. 
They carried the news to King Louis. 

He heard it as calm as you please, 
And, like a majestical monarch, 

Kept filing his locks and his keys. 

" We showed our republican courage, 

We storm'd and we broke the great gate in. 
And we murder'd the insolent governor 

For daring to keep us a-waiting. 
Lambesc and his squadrons stood by : 

They never stirrM finger or thumb. 
The saucy aristocrats trembled 

As they heard the republican drum. 

"Hurrah ! what a storm was a-brewing : 

The day of our vengeance was come ! 
Ihrough scenes of what carnage and ruin 

Did I beat on the patriot drum ! 
Let 's drink to the famed tenth of August: 

At midnight I beat the tattoo, 
And woke up the Fikemen of Paris 

To follow the bold Barbaroux. 



BALLADS. 

" With pikes, and with shouts, and with torches 

March'd onwards our dusty battalions, 
And we girt the tall castle of Louis, 

A million of tatterdemalions ! 
We stormM the fair gardens where towertt 

The walls of his heritage splendid. 
Ah, shame on him, craven and coward, 

That had not the heart to defend it! 

" With the crown of his sires on his head. 

His nobles and knights by his side, 
At the foot of his ancestors' palace 

T were easy, methinks, to have died. 
But no : when we burst through his barriers, 

Mid heaps of the dying and dead, 
In rain through the chambers we sought him — 

He had tum'd like a craven and fled. 

" Tou all know the Place de la Concorde t 

T is hard by the Tuilerie walL 
Mid terraces, fountains, and statues, 

There rises an obelisk talL 
There rises an obelisk tall, 

All garnish'd and gilded the base is : 
' Tis surely the gayest of all 

Our beautiful city's gay places. 

" Around it are gardens and flowers, 

And the Cities of France on their thrones, 
Each crown'd with his circlet of flowers 

Sits watching this biggest of stones ! 
I love to go sit in the sun there, 

The flowers and fountains to see, 
And to think of the deeds that were done there 

In the glorious year ninety-three. 

•' T was here stood the Altar of Freedom ; 

And though neither marble nor gilding 
Was used in those days to adorn 

Our simple republican building, 



BALLADS. 

Corbleu ! bat the m±hb guillotiki 
Cared little for splendor or show, 

So you gave her an axe and a beam 
And a plank and a basket or so. 

" Awful, and prond, and erect, 

Here sat our republican goddess. 
Each morning her table we deck'd 

With dainty aristocrats' bodies. 
The people each day flocked around 

As she sat at her meat and her wine : 
T was always the use of our nation 

To witness the sovereign dine. 

" Young virgins with fair golden tresses, 

Old silver-hairM prelates and priests, 
Dukes, marquises, barons, princesses, 

Were splendidly served at her feasts. 
Ventrebleu ! but we pamper' d our ogress 

With the best that our nation could bring; 
And dainty she grew in her progress, 

And called for the head of a King ! 

" She called for the blood of our King, 

And straight from his prison we drew him ; 
And to her with shouting we led him, 

And took him, and bound him, and slew him. 
' The monarchs of Europe against me 

Have plotted a godless alliance : 
1 11 fling them the head of King Louis/ 

She said, 'as my gage of defiance.' 

" I see him as now, for a moment, 

Away from his jailers he broke ; 
And stood at the foot of the scaffold, 

And linger'd, and fain would have spoke. 
' Ho, drummer ! quick ! silence yon Capet,' 

Says Santerre, ' with a beat of your drum.' 
Lustily then did I tap it, 

And the son of Saint Louis was dumb. 



BALLADS. 



pabt n. 



" The glorious days of September 

Saw many aristocrats fall ; 
'T was then that our pikes drunk the blood 

In the beautiful breast of Lamballe. 
Pardi, 't was a beautiful lady ! 

I seldom ha?e looked on her like ; 
And I drumm'd for a gallamt procession, 

That marched with her head on a pike. 

" Let 's show the pale head to the Queen, 

We said — she '11 remember it well. 
She look'd from the bars of her prison, 

And shriek'd as she saw it, and fell. 
We set up a shout at her screaming, 

We laugh'd at the fright she had shown 
At the sight of the head of her minion ; 

How she 'd tremble to part with her own. 

" We had taken the head of King Capet, 

We called for the blood of his wife ; 
Undaunted she came to the scaffold, 

And bared her fair neck to the knife. 
As she felt the foul fingers that touch'd her, 

She shrunk, but she deigned not to speak : 
She look'd with a royal disdain, 

And died with a blush on her cheek ! 

" 'T was thus that our country was saved; 

So told us the safety committee ! 
But psha ! I've the heart of a soldier, 

All gentleness, mercy, and pity. 
I loathed to assist at such deeds, 

And my dram beat its loudest of tunes 
As we offered to justice offended 

The blood of the bloody tribunes. 

" Away with such foul recollections ! 

No more of the axe and the block ; 
I saw the last fight of the sections, 

As they fell 'neath our guns at Saint Rock. 



BALLADS. 

Young Bonapabtb led us that day ; 

When he sought the Italian frontier, 
I followed my gallant young captain, 

I followed him many a long year. 

" We came to an army in rags, 

Our general was but a boy 
When we first saw the Austrian flags 

Flaunt proud in the fields of Savoy. 
In the glorious year ninety-six, 

We march'd to the banks of the Po ; 
I carried my drum and my sticks, 

And we laid the proud Austrian low. 

" In triumph we entered Milan, 

We seized on the Mantuan keys ; 
The troops of the Emperor ran, 

And the Pope he fell down on his knees." ■ 
Pierre's comrades here call'd a fresh bottle, 

And clubbing together their wealth. 
They drank to the Army of Italy, 

And General Bonaparte's health. 

The drummer now bared his old breast, 

And sbow'd us a plenty of scars, 
Rude presents that Fortune had made him, 

In fifty victorious wars. 
"This came when I followed bold Kleber— 

T was shot by a Mameluke gun ; 
And this from an Austrian sabre, 

When the field of Marengo was won. 

" My forehead has many deep furrows, 

But this is the deepest of all : 
A Brunswicker made it at Jena, 

Beside the fair river of Saal. 
This cross, H was the Emperor gave it ; 

(God bless him !) it covers a blow; 
I had it at Austerlitz fight, 

As I beat on my drum in the snow. 



10 BALLADS. 

" T was thus that we conquer'd and fought ; 

But wherefore continue the story P 
There 's never a babj in France 

But has heard of our chief and our glory, — 
But has heard of our chief and our fame, 

His sorrows and triumphs can tell, 
How bravely Napoleon conquer'd, 

How bravely and sadly he fell. 

" It makes my old heart to beat higher, 

To think of the deeds that I saw ; 
I followed bold Ney throigh the fire, 

And charged at the side of Murat." 
And so did old Peter continue 

His story of twenty brave years ; 
His audience follow'd with comments — 

Rude comments of curses and tears. 

He told how the Prussians in vain 

Had died in defence of their land ; 
His audience laugh'd at the story, 

And vow'd that their captain was grand ! 
He had fought the red English, he said, 

In many a battle of Spain ; 
They cursed the red English, and prayed 

To meet them and fight them again. 

He told them how Russia was lost, 

Had winter not driven them back ; 
And his company cursed the quick frost, 

And doubly they cursed the Cossack. 
He told how the stranger arrived ; 

They wept at the tale of disgrace: 
And they long'd but for one battle more, 

The stain of their shame to efface ! 

" Our country their hordes overrun, 
We fled to the fields of Champagne, 

And fought them, though twenty to one, 
And beat them again and again ! 



BALLADS. 11 

Our warrior was conqoer'd at last ; 

They bade him his crown to resign ; 
To fate and his country he yielded 

The rights of himself and bis line. 

" He came, and among us he stood, 

Around him we press'd in a throng : 
We could not regard him for weeping, 

Who had led us and loved us so long 

• I have led you for twenty long years/ 

Napoleon said, ere he went ; 

• Wherever was honor I found you, 

And with you, my sons, am content ! 

" 'Though Europe against me was arm'd, 

Tour chiefs and my people ore true ; 
I still might have struggled with fortune, 

And baffled all Europe with you. 

'"But France would have suffered the while, 

T is best that I suffer alone ; 
I go to my place of exile, 

To write of the deeds we have done. 

" ' Be true to the king that they give you, 

We may not embrace ere we part ; 
But, General, reach me your hand, 

And press me, I pray, to your heart.' 

" He called for our battle standard ; 
One kiss to the eagle he gave. 

• Dear eagle ! ' he said, ' may this kiss 

Long sound in the hearts of the brave ! ' 
T was thus that Napoleon left us ; 

Our people were weeping and mute, 
As he pass'd through the lines of his guard, 

And our drums beat the notes of salute. 

" I look'd when the drumming was o'er, 

I look'd, but our hero was gone ; 
We were destined to see him once more, 

When we fought on the Mount of St. John. 



12 BALLADS. 

The Emperor rode through oar files ; 

'T was June, and a fair Sunday morn; 
The lines of our warriors for miles 

Stretch'd wide through the Waterloo corn. 

" In thousands we stood on the plain, 

The red-coats were crowning the height ; 
' Go scatter yon English/ he said ; 

' We '11 sup, lads, at Brussels, tonight' 
We answered his voice with a shout; 

Our eagles were bright in the sun ; 
Our drums and our cannon spoke out, 

And the thundering battle begun, 

" One charge to another succeeds, 

Like waves that a hurricane bears ; 
All day do our galloping steeds 

Dash fierce on the enemy's squares* 
At noon we began the fell onset : 

We charged up the Englishman's hill; 
And madly we charged it at sunset — 

His banners were floating there still. 

" — Go to ! I will tell you no more ; 

You know how the battle was lost. 
Ho ! fetch me a beaker of wine, 

And, comrades, I '11 give you a toast. 
1 '11 give you a curse on all traitors, 

Who plotted our Emperor's ruin ; 
' And a curse on those red-coated English, 

Whose bayonets help'd our undoing. 

" A curse on those British assassins, 

Who order*d the slaughter of Ney ; 
A curse on Sir Hudson, who tortured 

The life of our hero away. 
A curse on all Russians — I hate them — 

On all Prussian and Austrian fry ; 
And oh ! but I pray we may meet them, 

And fight them again ere I die." 



BALLADS. 13 

T was thus old Peter did conclude 

His chronicle with curses fit 
He spoke the tale in accents rode, 

In ruder verse I copied it. 

Perhaps the tale a moral bears 
(All tales in time to this must come), 

The story of two hundred years 
Writ on the parchment of a drum. 

What Peter told with drum and stick. 

Is endless theme for poet's pen : 
Is found in endless quartos thick, 

Enormous books by learned men. 

And ever since historian writ, 

And ever since a bard could sing, 
Doth each exalt with all his wit 

The noble art of murdering. 

We love to read the glorious page, 

How bold Achilles kill'd his foe : 
And Tumus, felPd by Trojans' rage, 

Went howling to the shades below. 

How Godfrey led his red-cross knights, 

How mad Orlando slash'd and slew; 
There 's not a single bard that writes 

But doth the glorious theme renew. m 

And while, in fashion picturesque, 
The poet rhymes of blood and blows, 

The grave historian at his desk 
Describes the same in classic prose. 

Go read the works of Reverend Cox, 

You '11 duly see recorded there 
The history of the self-same knocks 

Here roughly sung by Drummer Pierre. 



14 BALLADS. 

Of battles fierce and warriors big, 
He writes in phrases dull and slow, 

And waves his cauliflower wig, 
And shouts " Saint George for Marlborow ! " 

Take Doctor Southey from the shelf, 

An LL.D., — a peaceful man ; 
Good Lord, how doth he plume himself 

Because we beat the Corsican 1 

From first to last his page is filled 
With stirring tales how blows were struck. 

He shows how we the Frenchman kill'd, 
And praises God for our good luck. 

Some hints, 't is true, of politics 
The doctors give and statesman's art : 

Pierre only bangs his drum and sticks, 
And understands the bloody part. 

He cares not what the cause may be, 
He is not nice for wrong and right ; 

But show him where 's the enemy, 
He only asks to drum and fight. 

They bid him fight, — perhaps he wins, 
And when he tells the story o'er, 

The honest savage brags and grins, 
And only longs to fight once more. 

But luck may change, and valor fail, 
Our drummer, Peter, meet reverse, 

And with a moral points his tale — 
The end of all such tales — a curse. 

Last year, my love, it was my hap 

Behind a grenadier to be, 
And, but he wore a hairy cap, 

No taller man, methinks, than me. 



BALLADS. 15 

Prince Albert and the Queen, God wot, 

(Be blessings on the glorious pair ! ) 
Before us passed, I saw them not, 

I only saw a cap of hair. 

Your orthodox historian puts 

In foremost rank the soldier thus, 
The red-coat bully in his boots, 

That hides the march of men from us. 

He puts him there in foremost rank, 

You wonder at his cap of hair : 
You hear his sabre's cursed clank, 

His spurs are jingling every where. 

Go to ! I hate him and his trade : 

Who bade us so to cringe and bend, 
And all God's peaceful people made 

To such as him subservient P 

Tell me what find we to admire 

In epaulets and scarlet coats, 
In men, because they load and fire, 

And know the art of cutting throats? 



Ah, gentle, tender lady mine ! 

The winter wind blows cold and shrill, 
Come, fill me one more glass of wine, 

And give the silly fools their will. 

And what care w« for war and wrack, 
How kings and heroes rise and fall ; 

Look yonder, 1 in his coffin black, 
There lies the greatest of them all ! 

To pluck him down, and keep him up, 

Died many million human souls ; 
'Tis twelve o'clock and time to sup, 

Bid Mary heap the fire with coals. 

* This ballad was written at Parla at the time of the 8econd Funeral 
of Napoleon. 



16 BALLADS. 

He captured many thousand guns ; 

He wrote "The Great" before his name; 
And dying, only left his sons 

The recollection of his shame. 

Though more than half the world was his. 
He died without a rood his own ; 

And borrowed from his enemies 
Six foot of ground to lie upon. 

He fought a thousand glorious wars. 
And more than half the world was his, 

And somewhere now, in yonder stars. 
Can tell, mayhap, what greatness is. 

1841. 



ABD-EL-KADER AT TOULON. 

OB, THE CAGED HAWK. 

No more, thou lithe and long-winged hawk, of desert-life for 

thee; 
No more across the sultry sands shalt thou go swooping free : 
Blunt idle talons, idle beak, with spurning of thy chain, 
Shatter against thy cage the wing thou ne'er may'st spread again. 

Long, sitting by their watchnres, shall the Eabyles tell the 

tale 
Of thy dash from Ben Halifa on the fiat Metidja vale ; 
How thou swept'st the desert over, bearing down the wild 

El Riff, 
From eastern Beni Salah to western Ouad Shelif ; 

How thy white burnous went streaming, like the storm-rack 

o'er the sea, 
When thou rodest in the Tanward of the Moorish chivalry ; 
How thy razzia was a whirlwind, thy onset a simoom, 
How thy sword-sweep was the lightning, dealing death from out 

the gloom ! 



BALLADS. 17 

Nor less quick to sky in battles than in peace to spare and save, 
Of brave men wisest councillor, of wise councillors most brave ; 
How the eye that flashed destruction could beam gentleness and 

love, 
How Hon in thee mated lamb, how eagle mated dove ! 

Availed not or steel or shot 'gainst that charmed life secure, 
Till cunning Prance, in last resource, tossed up the golden lure ; 
And the carrion buzzards round him stooped, faithless, to the 

cast, 
And the wild hawk of the desert is caught and caged at last 

Weep, maidens of Zerifah, above the laden loom I 
Scar, chieftains of Al Elmah, your cheeks in grief and gloom ! 
Sons of the Beni Snazam, throw down the useless lance, 
And stoop your necks and bare your backs to yoke and scourge 
of France ! 

'T was not in fight they bore him down ; he never cried aman ; 
He never sank his sword before the Pbincs op Franghistan ; 
But with traitors all around him, his star upon the wane, 
He heard the voice of Allah, and he would not strive in vain. 

They gave him what he asked them; from king to king he 

spake, 
As one that plighted word and seal not knoweth how to break ; 
"Let me pass from out my deserts, be 't mine own choice where 

to go, 
I brook no fettered life to live, a captive and a show." 

And they promised, and he trusted them, and proud and calm 

he came, 
Upon his black mare riding, girt with his sword of fame, 
Good steed, good sword, he rendered both unto the Frankish 

throng; 
He knew them false and fickle — but a Prince's word is strong. 

How have they kept their promise F Turned they the vessel's 

prow 
Unto Acre, Alexandria, as they have sworn e'en now ? 

vol. xxix. — 2 



18 BALLADS. 

Not so : from Oran northwards the white sails gleam and glance, 
And the wild hawk of the desert is borne away to France ! 

Where Toulon's white-walled lazaret looks southward o'er the 

wave, 
Sits he that trusted in the word a son of Loins gave. 
O noble faith of noble heart ! And was the warning vain, 
The text writ by the Bourbon in the blurred black book of 

Spain? 

They have need of thee to gaze on, they have need of thee to 

grace 
The triumph of the Prince, to gild the pinchbeck of their race. 
Words are but wind, conditions must be construed by Guizot ; 
Dash out thy heart, thou desert hawk, ere thou art made a 

show ! 



THE KING OF BRENTFORD'S TESTAMENT. 

The noble king of Brentford 

Was old and very sick, 
He summoned his physicians 

To wait upon him quick ; 
They stepp'd into their coaches 

And brought their best physick. 

They cramm'd their gracious master 

With potion and with pill ; 
They drench'd him and they bled him : 

They could not cure his ill. 
u Go fetch," says he, " my lawyer, 

I 'd better make my will." 

The monarch's royal mandate 

The lawyer did obey ; 
The thought of six-and-eightpenoe 

Did make his heart full gay. 
"What is V says he, " your Majesty 

Would wish of me to-day P " 



BALLADa 

" The doctors have belaborM me 

With potion and with pill : 
My hours of life are counted, 

man of tape and quill ! 

Sit down and mend a pen or two, 

1 want to make m j will. 

" O'er all the land of Brentford 

I 'm lord, and eke of Kew : 
I 've three-per-cents and five-per-centa ; 

My debts are but a few ; 
And to inherit after me 

I have but children two. 

"Prince Thomas is my eldest son, 

A sober Prince is he, 
And from the day we breech'd him 

Till now, he 's twenty-three, 
He never caused disquiet 

To his poor mamma or me. 

" At school they never flogged him, 

At college, though not fast, 
Yet his little-go and great-go 

He creditably pass'd, 
And made his year's allowance 

For eighteen months to last. 

" He never owed a shilling, 

Went never drunk to bed, 
He has not two ideas 

Within his honest head — 
In all respects he differs 

From my second son, Prince Ned. 

"When Tom has half his income 

Laid by at the year's end, 
Poor Ned has ne'er a stiver 

That rightly he may spend, 
But sponges on a tradesman, 

Or borrows from a friend. 



19 



BALLADS. 

" While Tom Lis legal studies 

Most soberly pursues, 
Poor Ned must piss his mornings 

A-dawdling with the Muse : 
While Tom frequents his banker. 

Young Ned frequents the Jews. 

" Ned drives about in buggies, 

Tom sometimes takes a 'bus ; 
Ah, cruel fate, why made you 

My children differ thus ? 
Why make of Tom a dullard, 

And Ned a ^nu^" 

" You '11 cut him with a shilling/' 

Exclaimed the man of wits : 
" I '11 leave my wealth," said Brentford, 

" Sir Lawyer, as befits ; 
And portion both their fortunes 

Unto their several wits." 

"Your Grace knows best," the lawyer said; 

" On your commands I wait." 
" Be silent, sir," says Brentford, 

" A plague upon your prate ! 
Come take your pen and paper, 

And write as I dictate," 

The will as Brentford spoke it 
Was writ and signed and closed ; 

He bade the lawyer leave him, 
And turn'd him round and dozed - r 

And next week in the churchyard 
The good old King reposed. 

Tom, dressed in crape and hatband, 

Of mourners was the chief ; 
In bitter self-upbraidings 

Poor Edward showed his grief: 
Tom hid his fat white countenance 

In his pocket-handkerchief. 



BALLADS. 21 

Ned's eyes were full of weeping, 

He faiter'd in his walk ; 
Tom never shed a tear, 

But onwards he did stalk, 
As pompous, black, and solemn, 

As any catafalque. 

And when the bones of Brentford — 

That gentle king and just — 
With bell and book and candle 

Were duly laid in dust, 
"Now, gentlemen," says Thomas, 

" Let business be discussed. 

" When late our sire beloved 

Was taken deadly ill, 
Sir Lawyer, you attended him 

(I mean to tax your bill) ; 
And, as you signed and wrote it 

I prithee read the will" 

The lawyer wiped his spectacles, 

And drew the parchment out; 
And all the Brentford family 

Sat eager round about : 
Poor Ned was somewhat anxious, 

But Tom had ne'er a doubt 

" My son, as I make ready 

To seek my last long home, 
Some cares I had for Neddy, 

But none for thee, my Tom : 
8obriety and order 

You ne'er departed from. 

" Ned hath a brilliant genius, 

And thou a plodding brain ; 
On thee I think with pleasure, 

On him with doubt and pain." 
(" You see, good Ned," says Thomas, 

" What he thought about us twain.") 



22 BALLADS. 

" Though small was your allowance, 
You saved a little store ; 

And those who save a little 
Shall get a plenty more." 

As the lawyer read this compliment, 
Tom's eyes were running o'er. 

* The tortoise and the hare, Tom, 
Set out, at each his pace ; 

The hare it was the fleeter, 
The tortoise won the race ; 

And since the world's beginning 
This ever was the case. 

"Ned's genius, blithe and singing, 
Steps gayly o'er the ground ; 

As steadily you trudge it 
He clears it with a bound; 

But dulness has stout legs, Tom, 
And wind that 's wondrous sound. 

" O'er fruits and flowers alike, Tom, 
You pass with plodding feet ; 

You heed not one nor t' other 
But onwards go your beat, 

While genius stops to loiter 
With all that he may meet; 

" And ever as he wanders, 
Will have a pretext fine 

For sleeping in the morning, 
Or loitering to dine, 

Or dozing in the shade, 
Or basking in the shine. 

" Your little steady eyes, Tom, 
Though not so bright as those 

That restless round about him 
His flashing genius throws, 

Are excellently suited 
To look before your nose. 



BALLADS. 23 

" Thank Heaven, then, for the blinkers 

It placed before your eyes ; 
The stupidest are weakest, 

The witty are not wise ; 
Oh, bless your good stupidity, 

It is your dearest prize ! 

" And though my lands are wide, 

And plenty is my gold, 
Still better gifts from Nature, 

My Thomas, do you hold — 
A brain that *s thick and heavy, 

A heart that 's dull and cold. 

" Too dull to feel depression, 

Too hard to heed distress, 
Too cold to yield to passion 

Or silly tenderness. 
March on — your road is open 

To wealth, Tom, and success. 

" Ned sinneth in extravagance, 

And you in greedy lust." 
("F faith," says Ned, "our father 

Is less polite than just.") 
" In you, son Tom, I *ve confidence, 

But Ned I cannot trust. 

" Wherefore my lease and copyholds, 

My lands and tenements, 
My parks, my farms, and orchards, 

My houses and my rents, 
My Dutch stock and my Spanish stock, 

My five and three per cents, 

" I leave to you, my Thomas " — 

(" What, all P " poor Edward said. 
"Well, well, I should have spent them, 

And Tom 's a prudent head ") — 
"I leave to you, my Thomas, — 

To you in Tttusr for Ned." 



24 BALLADS. 

The wrath and consternation 
What poet e'er could trace 

That at this fatal passage 
Came o'er Prince Tom his face ; 

The wonder of the company, 
And honest Ned's amaze ! 

"'Tis sorely some mistake/' 
Good-naturedly cries Ned ; 

The lawyer answered gravely, 
"Tis even as I said; 

'T was thus his gracious Majesty 
Ordain'd on his death-bed. 

" See, here the will is witness'd, 
And here 's his autograph." 

u In truth, our father's writing," 
Says Edward, with a laugh ; 

"But thou shalt not be a loser, Torn, 
We '11 share it half and half." 

"Alas! my kind young gentleman, 

This sharing cannot be ; 
'Tis written in the testament 

That Brentford spoke to me, 
• I do forbid Prince Ned to give 

Prince Tom a halfpenny. 

" ' He hath a store of money, 
But ne'er was known to lend it ; 

He never help'd his brother ; 
The poor he ne'er befriended ; 

He hath no need of property 
Who knows not how to spend it. 

" ' Poor Edward knows but how to spend, 
And thrifty Tom to hoard ; 

Let Thomas be the steward then, 
And Edward be the lord ; 

And as the honest laborer 
Is worthy his reward, 



BALLADS. 25 

" ' I pray Prince Ned, my second son, 

And my successor dear, 
To pay to his intendant 

Five hundred pounds a year; 
And to think of his old father, 

And live and make good cheer.' " 

Such was old Brentford's honest testament, 

He did devise his moneys for the best, 
And lies in Brentford church in peaceful rest. 

Prince Edward lived, and money made and spent ; 
But his good sire was wrong, it is confess'd 

To say his son, young Thomas, never lent. 
He did. Young Thomas lent at interest, 

And nobly took his twenty-five per cent. 

Long time the famous reign of Ned endured 
O'er Chiswick, Fulham, Brentford, Putney, Kew, 

But of extravagance he ne'er was cured. 
And when both died, as mortal men will do, 

T was commonly reported that the steward 
Was very much the richer of the two. 



THE WHITE SQUALL. 

On deck, beneath the awning, 
I dozing lay and yawning ; 
It was the gray of dawning, 

Ere yet the sun arose ; 
And above the funnel's roaring, 
And the fitful wind's deploring, 
I heard the cabin snoring 

With universal nose. 
I could hear the passengers snorting - 
I envied their disporting — 
Vainly I was courting 

The pleasure of a doze ! 



BALLAD& 

So I lay, and wondered why iigh 
Came not, and watched the twilight. 
And the glimmer of the skylight, 

That shot across the deck ; 
And the binnacle pale and steady, 
And the dull glimpse of the dead-eye, 
And the sparks in fiery eddy 

That whirled from the chimney neck 
In our jovial floating prison 
There was sleep from fore to mizzen, 
And never a star had risen 

The hazy sky to speck. 

Strange company we harbored ; 
We 'd a hundred Jews to larboard, 
Unwashed, uncombed, unbarbered — 

Jews black, and brown, and gray ; 
With terror it would seize ye, 
And make your souls uneasy, 
To see those Rabbis greasy, 

Who did naught but scratch and pray : 
Their dirty children puking — 
Their dirty saucepans cooking — 
Their dirty fingers hooking 

Their swarming fleas away. 

To starboard, Turks and Greeks were — 
Whiskered and brown their cheeks were - 
Enormous wide their breeks were, 

Their pipes did puff alway; 
Each on his mat allotted 
In silence smoked and squatted, 
Whilst round their children trotted 

In pretty, pleasant play. 
He can't but smile who traces 
The smiles on those brown faces, 
And the pretty, prattling graces 

Of those small heathens gay. 



BALLADS. 27 

And so the hours kept tolling, 
And through the ocean rolling 
Went the brave "Iberia" bowling 

Before the break of day — 
When a squall, upon a sudden, 
Came o'er the waters scudding ; 
And the clouds began to gather, 
And the sea was lashed to lather, 
And the lowering thunder grumbled, 
And the lightning jumped and tumbled, 
And the ship, and all the ocean, 
Woke up in wild commotion. 
Then the wind set up a howling, 
And the poodle dog a yowling, 
And the cocks began a crowing, 
And the old cow raised a lowing, 
As she beard the tempest blowing ; 
And fowls and geese did cackle, 
And the cordage and the tackle 
Began to shriek and crackle ; 
And the spray dashed o'er the funnels, 
And down the deck in runnels ; 
And the rushing water soaks all, 
From the seamen in the fo'ksal 
To the stokers whose black faces 
Peer out of their bed-places ; 
And the captain he was bawling, 
And the sailors pulling, hauling, 
And the quarter-deck tarpauling 
Was shivered in the squalling ; 
And the passengers awaken, 
Most pitifully shaken ; 
And the steward jumps up, and hastens 
For the necessary basins. 

Then the Greeks they groaned and quivered 
And they knelt, and moaned, and shivered, 
As the plunging waters met them, 
And splashed and overset them ; 



28 BALLADS. 

And they call in their emergence 
Upon countless saints and virgins; 
And their marrowbones are bended, 
And they think the world is ended. 

And the Turkish women for'ard 
Were frightened and behorror'd ; 
And shrieking and bewildering, 
The mothers clutched their children ; 
The men sung " Allah ! Ulah ! 
MashallahBismillah!" 
As the warring waters doused them 
And splashed them and soused them. 
And they called upon the Prophet, 
And thought but little of it. 

Then all the fleas in Jewry 

Jumped up and bit like fury ; 

And the progeny of Jacob 

Did on the main-deck wake up 

(I wot those greasy Rabbins 

Would never pay for cabins) ; 

And each man moaned and jabbered in 

His filthy Jewish gaberdine, 

In woe and lamentation, 

And howling consternation. 

And the splashing water drenches 

Their dirty brats and wenches ; 

And they crawl from bales and benches 

In a hundred thousand stenches. 

This was the White Squall famous, 
Which latterly overcame us, 
And which all will well remember 
On the 28th September; 
When a Prussian captain of Lancers 
(Those tight-laced, whiskered prancers) 
Came on the deck astonished, 
By that wild squall admonished, 



1844. 



BALLADS. 29 

And wondering cried, " Potztausend, 

Wie ist der Sturm jetzt brausend F " 

And looked at Captain Lewis, 

Who calmly stood and blew his 

Cigar in all the bustle, 

And scorned the tempest's tussle, 

And oft we've thought thereafter 

How he beat the storm to laughter ; 

For well he knew his vessel 

With that vain wind could wrestle ; 

And when a wreck we thought her, 

And doomed ourselves to slaughter, 

How gayly he fought her, 

And through the hubbub brought her, 

And as the tempest caught her, 

Cried, " George ! soke brandy- and-watxr ! " 

And when, its force expended, 
The harmless storm was ended, 
And as the sunrise splendid 

Came blushing o'er the sea ; 
I thought, as day was breaking, 
My little girls were waking, 
And smiling, and making 

A prayer at home for me. 



PEG OF LIMAVADDY. 

RtDDro from Coleraine 

(Famed for lovely Kitty), 
Came a Cockney bound 

UntoDerry city; 
Weary was his soul, 

Shivering and sad, he 
Bumped along the road 

Leads to Limavaddy. 



30 BALLADS. - 

Mountains stretch'd around, 

Gloomy was their tinting, 
And the hone's hoofs 

Made a dismal dinting; 
Wind upon the heath 

Howling was and piping, 
On the heath and bog, 

Black with many a snipe in. 
Mid the bogs of black, 

Silver pools were flashing, 
Crows upon their sides 

Picking were and splashing. 
Cockney on the car 

Closer folds his plaidy, 
Grumbling at the road 

Leads to Limavaddy. 

Through the crashing woods 

Autumn brawl'd and bluster'd, 
Tossing round about 

Leaves the hue of mustard ; 
Yonder lay Lough Foyle, 

Which a storm was whipping, 
Covering with mist 

Lake, and shores and snipping. 
Up and down the hill 

(Nothing could be bolder), 
Horse went with a raw 

Bleeding on his shoulder. 
" Where are horses changed f " 

Said I to the laddy 
Driving on the box : 

w Sir, at Limavaddy." 

Limavaddy inn *s 
But a humble bait-house, 

Where you may procure 
Whiskey and potatoes ; 



BALLADS. 31 

Landlord at the door 

Gives a smiling welcome — 
To the shivering wights 

Who to his hotel come. 

Landlady within 

Sits and knits a stocking, 
With a wary foot 

Baby's cradle rocking. 
To the chimney nook 

Having found admittance, 
There I watch a pup 

Flaying with two kittens ; 
(Playing round the fire, 

Which of blazing turf is, 
Roaring to the pot 

Which bubbles with the murphies.) 
And the cradled babe 

Fond the mother nursed it, 
Singing it a song 

As she twists the worsted! 

Up and down the stair 

Two more young ones patter 
(Twins were never seen 

Dirtier nor fatter). 
Both have mottled legs, 

Both have snubby noses, 
Both have— Here the host 

Kindly interposes : 
u 8ure you must be frose 

With the sleet and hail, sir : 
So will you have some punch, 

Or will you have some ale, sir P " 

Presently a maid 

Enters with the liquor 
(Half a pint of ale 

Frothing in a beaker). 
Gads! I did n't know 

What my beating heart meant : 



32 BALLADS. 

Hebe's self I thought 
Entered the apartment 

As she came she smiled, 
And the smile bewitching, 

On my word and honor, 
Lighted all the kitchen ! 

With a curtsy neat 

Greeting the new comer, 
Lovely, smiling Peg 

Offers me the rummer ; 
But my trembling hand 

Up the beaker tilted, 
And the glass of ale 

Every drop I spilt it: 
Spilt it every drop 

(Dames, who read my volumes, 
Pardon such a word) 

On my what-d' ye-call-'ems ! 

Witnessing the sight 

Of that dire disaster, 
Out began to laugh 

Missis, maid, and master; 
Such a merry peal 

'Specially Miss Peg's was, 
(As the glass of ale 

Trickling down my legs was) 
That the joyful sound 

Of that mingling laughter 
Echoed in my ears 

Many a long day after. 

Such a silver peal ! 

In the meadows listening, 
Tou who 've heard the bells 

Ringing to a christening ; 
You who ever heard 

Caradori pretty, 
Smiling like an angel, 

Singing " Giovinetti ; " 



BALLADS. 33 

Fancy Peggy's laugh, 
Sweet, and clear, and cheerful, 

At my pantaloons 
With half a pint of beer full! 

When the laugh was done, 

Peg, the pretty hussy, 
Moved about the room 

Wonderful busy ; 
Now she looks to see 

If the kettle keep hot ; 
Now she rubs the spoons, 

Now she cleans the teapot ; 
Now she sets the cups 

Trimly and secure : 
Now she scours a pot, 

And so it was I drew her. 

Thus it was I drew her 

Scouring of a kettle, 
(Faith! her blushing cheeks 

Redden'd on the metal !) 
Ah ! but 't is in vain 

That I try to sketch it; 
The pot perhaps is like, 

But Peggy's face is wretched. 
No ! the best of lead 

And of indian-rubber 
Never could depict 

That sweet kettle-scrubber ! 

See her as she moves 

Scarce the ground she touches, 
Airy as a fay, 

Graceful as a duchess ; 
Bare her rounded arm, 

Bare her little leg is, 
Vestris never show'd 

Ankles like to Peggy's. 

VOL XXIX. — 8 



34 BALLADS. 

Braided is her hair, 
Soft her look and modest, 

Slim her little waist 
Comfortably bodioed. 

This I do declare, 

Happy is the laddy 
Who the heart can share 

Of Peg of Limavaddy. 
Married if she were 

Blest would be the daddy 
Of the children fair 

Of Peg of Limavaddy . 
Beauty is not rare 

In the land of Paddy, 
Fair beyond compare 

Is Peg of Limavaddy 

Citizen or Squire, 

Tory, Whig, or Radi- 
cal would all desire 

Peg of Limavaddy. 
Had I Homer's fire, 

Or that of Serjeant Taddy, 
Meetly I 'd admire 

Peg of Limavaddy. 
And till I expire, 

Or till I grow mad I 
Will sing unto my lyre 

Peg of Limavaddy ! 



MAI-DAI ODE. 

But yesterday a naked sod 
The dandies sneered from Rotten Row, 
And cantered o'er it to and fro : 
And see 'tis done 1 



BALLADS. 36 

As though 't were by a wizard's rod 
A blaring arch of lucid glass 
Leaps like a fountain from the grass 
To meet the sun ! 

A quiet green but few days since, 
With cattle browsing in the shade : 
And here are lines of bright arcade 
In order raised 1 
A palace as for fairy Prince, 
A rare pavilion, such as man 
Saw never since mankind began, 
And built and glazed ! 

A peaceful place it was but now, 
And lo ! within its shining streets 
A multitude of nations meets ; 
A countless throng 
I see beneath the crystal bow, 
And Gaul and German, Russ and Turk, 
Each with his native handiwork 
And busy tongue. 

I felt a thrill of love and awe 
To mark the different garb of each, 
The changing tongue, the various speech 
Together blent : 
A thrill, methinks, like His who saw 
" All people dwelling upon earth 
Praising our God with solemn mirth 
And one consent." 

High Sovereign, in your Royal state, 
Captains, and chiefs, and councillors, 
Before the lofty palace doors 
Are open set, — 
Hush ! ere you pass the shining gate ; 
Hush ! ere the heaving curtain draws, 
And let the Royal pageant pause 
A moment yet. 



BALLADS. 

People and prince a silence keep ! 
Bow coronet and kingly crown, 
Helmet and plume, bow lowly down, 
The while the priest, 
Before the splendid portal step, 
(While still the wonderous banquet stays) 
From Heaven supreme a blessing prays 
Upon the feast 

Then onwards let the triumph march ; 
Then let the loud artillery roll, 
And trumpets ring, and joy-bells toll, 
And pass the gate. 
Pass underneath the shining arch, 
'Neath which the leafy elms are green ; 
Ascend unto your throne, O Queen ! 
And take your state. 

Behold her in her Royal place ; 
A gentle lady ; and the hand 
That sways the sceptre of this land, 
How frail and weak ! 
Soft is the Yoioe, and fair the face : 
She breathes amen to prayer and hymn ; 
No wonder that her eyes are dim, 
And pale her cheek. 

This moment round her empire's shores 
The winds of Austral winter sweep, 
And thousands lie in midnight sleep 
At rest to-day. 
Oh ! awful is that crown of yours, 
Queen of innumerable realms 
Sitting beneath the budding elms 
Of English May! 

A wonderous sceptre 'tis to bear: 
Strange mystery of God which set 
Upon her brow yon coronet, — 
The foremost crown 



BALLADS. 37 

Of all the world, on one so fair ! 
That chose her to it from her birth, 
And bade the sons of ail the earth 
To her bow down. 

The representatives of man 
Here from the far Antipodes, 
And from the subject Indian seas, 
In Congress meet ; 
Prom Afric and from Hindustan, 
From Western continent and isle, 
The envoys of her empire pile 
Gifts at her feet; 

Oar brethren cross the Atlantic tides 
Loading the gallant decks which once 
Roared a defiance to our guns, 
With peaceful store ; 
8ymbol of peace, their vessel rides ; * 
O'er English waves float Star and Stripe, 
And firm their friendly anchors gripe 
The father shore ! 

From Rhine and Danube, Rhone and 8eine, 
As rivers from their sources gush, 
The swelling floods of nations rush, 
And seaward pour ; 
From coast to coast in friendly chain, 
With countless ships we bridge the straits, 
And angry ocean separates 
Europe no more. 

From Mississippi and from Nile — 
From Baltic, Ganges, Bosphorus, 
In England's ark assembled thus 
Are friend and guest. 
Look down the mighty sunlit aisle, 
And see the sumptuous banquet set, 
The brotherhood of nations met 
Around the feast ! 
* The U. 8. frigrie " St. Lawrence." 



38 BALLADS. 

Along the dazsKng colonnade, 
Ear as the straining eye can gase, 
Gleam cross and fountain, bell and vase, 
In vistas bright ; 
And statues fair of nymph and maid, 
And steeds and pards and Amazons, 
Writhing and grappling in the bronse, 
In endless fight. 

To deck the glorious roof and dome, 
To make the Queen a canopy, 
The peaceful hosts of industry 
Their standards bear. 
Yon are the works of Brahmin loom ; 
On such a web of Persian thread 
The desert Arab bows his head 
And cries his prayer. 

Look yonder where the engines toil : 
These England's arms of conquest are, 
The trophies of her bloodless war : 
Brave weapons these. 
Victorious over wave and soil, 
With these she sails, she weaves, she tills, 
Pierces the everlasting hills 
And spans the seas. 

The engine roars upon its race, 
The shuttle whirs along the woof, 
The people hum from floor to root 
With Babel tongue. 
The fountain in the basin plays, 
The chanting organ echoes clear, 
An awful chorus 't is to hear, 
A wondrous song ! 

8well, organ, swell your trumpet blast, 
March, Queen and Royal pageant, march 
By splendid aisle and springing arch 
Of this fair Hall: 



BALLADS. 39 

And see! above tbe fabric vast, 
God's boundless heaven is bending blue, 
God's peaceful sunlight 's beaming through, 
And shines o'er all. 

May, 186L 



THE BALLAD OF BOUILLABAISSE. 

A STJtssT there is in Paris famous, 

For which no rhyme our language yields, 
Rue NeuTe des Petits Champs its name is — 

The New Street of the Little Fields. 
And here 's an inn, not rich and splendid, 

But still in comfortable case ; 
The which in youth I oft attended, 

To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse. 

This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is — 

A sort of soup or broth, or brew, 
Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, 

That Greenwich never could outdo ; 
Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron, 

Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace : 
All these you eat at TberJs 's tavern, 

In that one dish of Bouillabaisse. 

Indeed, a rich and savory stew 't is ; 

And true philosophers, methinks, 
Who love all sorts of natural beauties, 

Should love good victuals and good drinks. 
And Cordelier or Benedictine . 

Might gladly, sure, his lot embrace, 
Nor find a fast-day too afflicting, 

Which served him up a Bouillabaisse. 

I wonder if the house still there is ? 

Yes, here the lamp is, as before ; 
The smiling red-cheeked ieaiUere is 

Still opening oysters at the door. 



40 BALLADS. 

Is Teb&& still aim and able ? 

I recollect his droll grimace : 
He 'd come and smile before your table, 

And hoped you liked your Bouillabaisse. 

We enter — nothing 's changed or older. 

" How '8 Monsieur Terr*, waiter, pray P " 
The waiter stares and shrugs his shoulder — 

" Monsieur is dead this many a day." 
" It is the lot of saint and sinner, 

So honest Tebrb 's run his race." 
'* What will Monsieur require for dinner ? " 

" Say, do you still cook Bouillabaisse f " 
•' Oh, oui, Monsieur," 's the waiter's answer ; 

" Quel vin Monsieur desire-t-il P " 
"Tell me a good one." — "That I can, sir: 

The Chambertin with yellow seal." 
" So Terre 's gone," I say, and sink in 

My old accustom'd corner-place ; 
" He 's done with feasting and with drinking, 

With Burgundy and Bouillabaisse." 

My old accustom'd corner here is, 

The table still is in the nook ; 
Ah ! vanish'd many a busy year is 

This well-known chair since last I took. 
When first I saw ye, eari luogki, 

I 'd scarce a beard upon my face, 
And now a grizzled, grim old fogy, 

I sit and wait for Bouillabaisse. 

Where are you, old companions trusty 

Of early days here met to dine P 
Come, waiter ! quick, a flagon crusty — 

I '11 pledge them in the good old wine. 
The kind old voices and old faces 

My memory can quick retrace ; 
Around the board they take their places, 

And share the wine and Bouillabaisse. 



BALLADS. 41 

There 's Jack has made a wondrous marriage ; 

There 's laughing Tom is laughing yet ; 
There 's brave Augustus drives his carriage ; 

There's poor old Feed in the "Gazette; " 
On James's head the grass is growing ; 

Good Lord ! the world has wagged apace 
8ince here we set the Claret flowing, 

And drank, and ate the Bouillabaisse. 

Ah me ! how quick the days are flitting ! 

I mind me of a time that 's gone, 
When here I 'd sit, as now I 'm sitting, 

In this same place — but not alone. 
A fair young form was nestled near me, 

A dear, dear face looked fondly up, 
And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me 

— There's no one now to share my cup. 

I drink it as the Fates ordain it. 

Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes : 
Fill up the lonely glass, and drain it 

In memory of dear old times. 
Welcome the wine, whate'er the seal is ; 

And sit you down and say your grace 
With thankful heart, whate'er the meal is, 

— Here comes the smoking Bouillabaisse ! 



THE MAHOGANY TREE. 

Christmas is here : 
Winds whistle shrill, 
Icy and chiD, 
Little care we : 
Little we fear 
Weather without, 
Sheltered about 
The Mahogany Tree. 



42 BALLADS. 

Once on the boughs 
Birds of rare plume 
Sang, in its bloom ; 
Night-birds are we : 
Here we carouse, 
Singing like them. 
Perched round the stem 
Of the jolly old tree. 

Here let us sport, 
Boys, as we sit ; 
Laughter and wit 
Flashing so free. 
Life is but short — 
When we are gone, 
Let them sing on, 
Round the old tree. 

Evenings we knew, 
Happy as this ; 
Faces we miss. 
Pleasant to see. 
Kind hearts and true, 
Gentle and just, 
Peace to your dust ! 
We sing round the tree. 

Care, like a dun, 
Lurks at the gate: 
Let the dog wait ; 
Happy we'll be! 
Drink, every one; 
Pile up the coals, 
Fill the red bowls, 
Round the old tree ! 

Brain we the cup, — 
Friend, art afraid? 
Spirits are laid 
In the Red Sea. 



BALLAD8. 43 

Mantle it up; 
Empty it yet; 
Let us forget 
Round the old tree. 

Sorrows, begone 1 
Life and its ills. 
Duns and their bills, 
Bid we to flee. 
Come with the dawn. 
Blue-devil sprite 
Leave us to-night, 
Bound the old tree. 



THE YANKEE VOLUNTEERS. 

M k turgeon of the United States' army says that on Inquiring of the Captain 
of Us company, he found that nin+itnOu of the men had enllated on account 
of tome female difficulty." — Morning Paper. 

Ye Yankee Volunteers ! 
It makes my bosom bleed 
When I your story read, 

Though oft 't is told one. 
So — in both hemispheres 
The women are untrue, 
And cruel in the New, 

As in the Old one ! 

What— in this company 

Of sixty sons of Mars, 

Who march 'neath Stripes and Stars, 

With fife and horn, 
Nine-tenths of all we see 
Along the warlike line 
Had but one cause to join 

This Hope Forlorn ? 



44 . BALLADS. 

Deserters from the realm 
Where tyrant Venus reigns, 
Ton slipp'd her wicked chains, 

Fled and out-ran her. 
And now, with sword and helm, 
Together banded are 
Beneath the Stripe and Star* 

Embroider'd banner ! 

And is it so with all 

The warriors ranged in line, 

With lace bedizen'd fine 

And swords, gold-hilted — 
Ton lusty corporal, 
Ton color-man who gripes 
The flag of Stars and Stripes — 

Has each been jilted P 

Come, each man of this line, 
The privates strong and tall, 
" The pioneers and all," 

The fifer nimble — 
Lieutenant and Ensign 
Captain with epaulets, 
And Blacky there, who beats 

The clanging cymbal — 

O cymbal-beating black, 
Tell us, as thou canst feel, 
Was it some Lucy Neal 

Who caused thy ruin P 
O nimble fifing Jack, 
And drummer making din 
So deftly on the skin, 

With thy rat-tattooing 

Confess, ye volunteers, 
Lieutenant and Ensign, 
And Captain of the line, 
As bold as Roman — 



BALLADa 45 

Confess, ye grenadiers, 
However strong and tall 
The Conqueror of you all 
Is Woman, Woman ! 

No corselet is so proof 

But through it from her bow 

The shafts that she can throw 

Will pierce and rankle. 
No champion e'er so tough, 
Bat's in the straggle thrown, 
And tripp'd and trodden down 

By her slim ankle. 

Thus always it was ruled : 
And when a woman smiled, 
The strong man was a child, 

The sage a noodle. 
Alcides was befool' d, 
And silly Samson shorn, 
Long, long ere you were born, 

Poor Yankee Doodle ! 



THE PEN AND THE ALBUM. 

" I am Miss Catherine's book," the album speaks; 

" I 'ye lain among your tomes these many weeks ; 

I'm tired of their old coats and yellow cheeks. 

"Quick, Pen 1 and write a line with a good grace : 
Come ! draw me off a funny little face ; 
And, prithee, send me back to Chesham Place." 

FEN. 

" I am my master's faithful old Gold Pen ; 
I've served him three long years, and drawn since then 
Thousands of funny women and droll men. 



46 BALLADS. 

" O Album ! could I tell you all bis ways 
And thoughts, since I am bis, these thousand days, 
Lord, how your pretty pages I 'd amaze ! " 

ALBUM. 

" His ways ? his thoughts ? Just whisper me a few ; 
Tell me a curious anecdote or two, 
And write 'em quickly off, good Mordan, do ! " 

FKH. 

" Since he my faithful sendee did engage 
To follow him through his queer pilgrimage, 
I 'ye drawn and written many a line and page. 

" Caricatures I scribbled have, and rhymes, 
And dinner-cards, and pictures pantomimes ; 
And merry little children's books at times. 

" I 've writ the foolish fancy of his brain ; 
The aimless jest that, striking, hath caused pain ; 
The idle word that he 'd wish back again. 

" I Ve help'd him to pen many a line for bread ; 
To joke with sorrow aching in his head ; 
And make your laughter when his own heart bled. 

" I 've spoke with men of all degree and sort — 
Peers of the land, and ladies of the Court ; 
Oh, but I 'ye chronicled a deal of sport ! 

" Feasts that were ate a thousand days ago, 
Biddings to wine that long hath ceased to flow, 
Gay meetings with good fellows long laid low ; 

" Summons to bridal, banquet, burial, ball, 
Tradesman's polite reminders of his small 
Account due Christmas last— I 'ye answered all. 

" Poor Diddler's tenth petition for a half- 
Guinea ; Miss Bunyan's for an autograph ; 
So I refuse, accept, lament, or laugh, 



BALLADS. 47 

" Condole, congratulate, invite, praise, scoff. 
Day after day still dipping in my trough, 
And scribbling pages after pages off. 

"Bay after day the labor 's to be done. 
And sure as comes the postman and the sun, 
The indefatigable ink must run. 

" Go back, my pretty little gilded tome, 
To a fair mistress and a pleasant home, 
Where soft hearts greet us whensoe'er we come 1 

"Bear, friendly eyes, with constant kindness lit, 
However rude my verse, or poor my wit, 
Or sad or gay my mood, you welcome it 

"Kind lady ! till my last of lines is penn'd, 
My master's love, grief, laughter, at an end, 
Whene'er I write your name, may I write friend I 

"Not all are so that were so in past years ; 
Voices, familiar once, no more he hears ; 
Names, often writ, are blotted out in tears, 

" So be it : — joys will end and tears will dry — 
Album ! my master bids me wish good-by, 
He 'U send you to your mistress presently. 

" And thus with thankful heart he closes you ? 
Blessing the happy hour when a friend he knew 
So gentle, and so generous, and so true. 

" Nor pass the words as idle phrases by ; 
Stranger ! I never writ a flattery, 
Nor sign'd the page that registered a lie." 



48 BALLADS. 



MRS. KATHERINE'S LANTERN. 
wbitten nr a lady's album. 

4< Coming from a gloomy court, 
Place of Israelite resort, 
This old lamp I 've brought with me. 
Madam, on its panes you '11 see 
The initials K. and E." 

" An old lantern brought to me P 
Ugly, dingy, battered, black ! " 
(Here a lady I suppose 
Taming up a pretty nose) — 
"Pray, sir, take the old thing back. 
I 've no taste for bric-a-brac." 

" Please to mark the letters twain " — 
(I 'm supposed to speak again) — 
" Graven on the lantern pane. 
Can you tell me who was she, 
Mistress of the flowery wreath, 
And the anagram beneath — 
The mysterious K. E. ? 

"Full a hundred years are gone 
Since the little beacon shone 
From a Venice balcony : 
There, on summer nights, it hung, 
And her lovers came and sung 
To their beautiful K. E. 

" Hush ! in the canal below 
Don't you hear the plash of oars 
Underneath the lantern's glow, 
And a thrilling voice begins 
To the sound of mandolins ? 
Begins singing of amore 
And delire and dolore — 
O the ravishing tenore 1 



BALLAD& 49 

"Lady, do you know the tune P 

Ah, we all of ns have hummed it ! 

I 've an old guitar has thrummed it, 

Under many a changing moon. 

Shall I try it? Do re MI . . 

What is this P Mafoi, the fact is, 

That my hand is out of practice, 

And my poor old fiddle cracked is, 

And a man — I let the truth out, — 

Who 's had almost every tooth out, 

Cannot sing as once he sung, 

When he was young as you are young, 

When he was young and lutes were strong, 

And love-lamps in the casement hung." 



LUCY'S BIRTHDAY. 

Sevbotkis rosebuds in a ring, 
Thick with sister flowers beset* 
In a fragrant coronet, 
Lucy's servants this day bring. 
Be it the birthday wreath she wears 
Fresh and fair, and symbolling 
The young number of her years, 
The sweet blushes of her spring. 

Types of youth and love and hope ! 
Friendly hearts your mistress greet, 
Be you ever fiiir and sweet, 
And grow lovelier as you ope ! 
Gentle nursling, fenced about 
With fond care, and guarded so, 
Scarce you 've heard of storms without, 
Frosts that bite or winds that blow 1 

TOL.XX1X. — 4 



60 BALLADS. 

Kindly has your life begun, 
And we pray that heaven may send 
To our floweret a warm sun, 
A calm summer, a sweet end. 
And where'er shall be her home, 
May she decorate the place ; 
Still expanding into bloom, 
And developing in grace. 



THE CANE-BOTTOM'D CHAIR. 

Ik tattered old slippers that toast at the bars, 
And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars, 
Away from the world and its toils and its cares, 
I 've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs. 

To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure, 

But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure ; 

And the view I behold on a sunshiny day 

Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way. 

This snug little chamber is cramm'd in all nooks 

With worthless old knick-knacks and silly old books, 

And foolish old odds and foolish old ends, 

Crack'd bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends. 

Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china, (all crack'd), 

Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-backed ; 

A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see ; 

What matter P 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me. 

No better divan need the Sultan require, 
Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire ; 
And 't is wonderful, surely, what music you get 
From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet. 



BALLADS. 51 

That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp ; 
By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp ; 
A mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn : 
T is a murderous knife to toast muffins upon. 

Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes, 
Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times 
As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie 
This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. 

But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest, 
There 's one that I love and I cherish the best : 
For the finest of couches that's padded with hair 
I never would change thee, my cane-bottom'd chair. 

T is a bandy-legg'd, high-shoulder'd, worm-eaten seat, 
With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet ; 
But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there, 
I bless thee and love thee, old cane-bottom'd chair. 

If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms, 

A thrill must have pass'd through your withered old arms ! 

I look'd, and I long'd, and I wish'd in despair; 

I wish'd myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair. 

It was but a moment she sat in this place, 

She 'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face ! 

A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair, 

And she sat there, and bloom'd in my cane-bottom'd chair. 

And so I have valued my chair ever since, 

Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince ; 

8aint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare, 

The queen of my heart and my cane-bottom'd chair. 

When the candles burn low, and the company 's gone, 
In the silence of night as I sit here alone — 
I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair — 
My Fanny I see in my cane-bottom*d chair. 



52 BALLADS. 

She comes from the past and revisits my room ; 
She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom ; 
So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair, 
And yonder she sits in my cane-bottom'd chair. 



PISCATOR AND PI8CATRIX. 

LINES WRITTEN TO AN ALBUM PRINT. 

As on this pictured page I look, 
This pretty tale of line and hook 
As though it were a novel-book 

Amuses and engages : 
I know them both, the boy and girl; 
She is the daughter of the Earl, 
The lad (that has his hair in curl) 

My lord the County's page is. 

A pleasant place for such a pair ! 
The fields lie basking in the glare ; 
No breath of wind the heavy air 

Of lazy summer quickens. 
Hard by you see the castle tall; 
The village nestles round the wall, 
As round about the hen its small 

Young progeny of chickens. 

It is too hot to pace the keep ; 
To climb the turret is too steep ; 
My lord the earl is dozing deep, 

His noon-day dinner over : 
The postern-warder is asleep 
(Perhaps they 've bribed him not to peep) : 
And so from out the gate they creep, 

And cross the fields of clover. 



BALLADS. S3 

Their lines into the brook they launch ; 
He lays his cloak upon a branch, 
To guarantee his Lady Blanche 

's delicate complexion : 
He takes his rapier from his haunch, 
That beardless doughty champion staunch; 
He 'd drill it through the rival's paunch 

That questioned his affection. 

O heedless pair of sportsmen slack ! 
You never mark, though trout or jack, 
Or little foolish stickleback, 

Your baited snares may capture. 
What care has the for line and hook? 
She turns her back upon the brook, 
Upon her lover's eyes to look 

In sentimental rapture. 

loving pair 1 as thus I gase 
Upon the girl who smiles always, 
The little hand that ever plays 

Upon the lover's shoulder; 
In looking at your pretty shapes, 
A sort of envious wish escapes 
(Such as the Fox had for the Grapes) 

The Poet your beholder. 

To be brave, handsome, twenty-two ; 
With nothing else on earth to do, 
But all day long to bill and coo : 

It were a pleasant calling. 
And had I such a partner sweet ; 
A tender heart for mine to beat, 
A gentle hand my clasp to meet ; — 

1 'd let the world flow at my feet, 

And never heed its brawling. 



\ 



54 BALLADS. 



THE ROSE UPON MY BALCONY. 

The rose upon my balcony tbe morning air perfuming, 
Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring ; 
You ask me why her breath is sweet, and why her cheek is 

blooming, 
It is because the sun is out and birds begin to sing. 

The nightingale, whose melody is through the greenwood ringing, 
Was silent when the boughs were bare and winds were blowing 

keen: 
And if, Mamma, you ask of me the reason of his singing, 
It is because the sun is out and all the leaves are green. 

Thus each performs his part, Mamma ; the birds have found their 

voices, 
The blowing rose a flush, Mamma, her bonny cheek to dye ; 
And there 's sunshine in my heart, Mamma, which wakens and 

rejoices, 
And so I sing and blush, Mamma, and that 's the reason why. 



RONSARD TO HIS MISTRESS. 

' Qoand too* teres bien, vietlle, le eolr 4 hi chsndeUe 
Assise snpres da feu devissnt et Slant* 
Dires, chs.nts.nt mes vers en vous esmeireiOsnt, 
Bonssxd m's celebre da temps que j'etois belle." 

Some winter night, shut snugly in 

Beside the fagot in the hall, 
I think I see you sit and spin, 

Surrounded by your maidens all. 
Old tales are told, old songs are sung, 

Old days come back to memory ; 
You say, " When I was fair and young, 

A poet sang of me ! " 



BALLADS. 65 

There 's not a maiden in your hall, 

Though tired and sleepy ever so, 
But wakes as you my name recall, 

And longs the history to know. 
And, as the piteous tale is said, 

Of lady cold and lover true, 
Each, musing, carries it to bed, 

And sighs and envies you ! 

" Our lady 's old and feeble now," 

They'll say ; " she once was fresh and fair, 
And yet she spurn'd her lover's vow, 

And heartless left him to despair : 
The lover lies in silent earth, 

No kindly mate the lady cheers ; 
She sits beside a lonely hearth, 

With threescore and ten years ! " 

Ah ! dreary thoughts and dreams are those, 

But wherefore yield me to despair, 
While yet the poet's bosom glows, 

While yet the dame is peerless fair ! 
Sweet lady mine ! while yet 't is time 

Requite my passion and my truth, 
And gather in their blushing prime 

The roses of your youth ! 



AT THE CHURCH GATE. 

Although I enter not, 
Yet round about the spot 

Ofttimea I hover : 
And near the sacred gate, 
With longing eyes I wait, 

Expectant of her. 



66 BALLADS. 

The Minster bell tolls out 
Above the city's rout, 

And noise and humming : 
They 'ye hosh'd the Minster bell : 
The organ 'gins to swell : 

8he *8 coming, she 's coming ! 

My lady comes at last, 
Timid, and stepping fast, 

And hastening hither, 
With modest eyes downcast : 
She comes — she 's here — she 's past - 

May heaven go with her ! 

Kneel, undisturb'd, fair Saint! 
Pour out your praise or plaint 

Meekly and duly; 
I will not enter there, 
To sully your pure prayer 

With thoughts unruly. 

But suffer me to pace 
Bound the forbidden place, 

Lingering a minute 
Like outcast spirits who wait 
And see through heaven's gate 

Angels within it. 



THE AGE OF WISDOM. 

Ho, pretty page, with the dimpled chin, 

That never has known the Barber's shear, 
All your wish is woman to win, 
This is the way that boys begin, — 
Wait till you oome to Forty Year. 



BALLADS. 67 

Curly gold locks cover foolish brains, 

Billing and cooing is all jour cheer ; 
Sighing and singing of midnight strains, 
Under BonnybelTs window panes, — 

Wait till you come to Forty Year. 

Forty times over let Michaelmas pass, 

Grizzling hair the brain doth clear — 
Then you know a boy is an ass, 
Then you know the worth of a lass, 

Once you have come to Forty Year. 

Fledge me round, I bid ye declare, 
All good fellows whose beards are gray, 

Did not the fairest of the lair 

Common grow and wearisome ere 
Ever a month was passed away ? 

The reddest lips that ever have kissed, 
The brighest eyes tbat ever ha?e shone, 

May pray and whisper, and we not list, 

Or look away, and never be missed, 
Ere yet ever a month is gone. 

Gillian 's dead, God rest her bier, 

How I loved her twenty years syne ! 
Marian 's married, but I sit here 
Alone and merry at Forty Year, 

Dipping my nose in the Gascon wine. 



80EROW8 OF WERTHER. 

Wbrthml had a love for Charlotte 
8nch as words could never utter; 

Would you know how first he met her P 
She was cutting bread and butter. 



58 BALLADS. 

Charlotte was a married lady, 
And a moral man was Wert her, 

And, for all the wealth of Indies, 
Would do nothing for to hart her. 

So he sighed and pined and ogled, 
And his passion boiled and bubbled, 

Till he blew his silly brains out, 
And no more was by it troubled. 

Charlotte, having seen his body 
Borne before her on a shutter, 

Like a well-conducted person, 
Went on cutting bread and butter. 



A DOB IN THE CITY. 

Little Kitty Lorimer, 

Fair, and young, and witty, 
What has brought your ladyship 

Rambling to the City ? 

All the Stags in Capel Court 

Saw her lightly trip it ; 
All the lads of Stock Exchange 

Twigg'd her muff and tippet. 

With a sweet perplexity, 

And a mystery pretty, 
Threading through Threadneedle Street, 

Trots the little Kitty. 

What was my astonishment — 
What was my compunction, 

When she reached the Offices 
Of the Didland Junction ! 



BALLADa 59 

Up the Didland stairs she went, 

To the Didland door, Sir; 
Porters lost in wonderment, 

Let her pass before, Sir. 

" Madam/' says the old chief Clerk, 

"Sure we can't admit ye." 
" Where 's the Didland Junction deed? " 

Dauntlessly says Kitty. 

•' If you doubt my honesty, 

Look at my receipt, Sir." 
Up then jumps the old chief Clerk, 

Smiling as he meets her. 

Kitty at the table sits 

(Whither the old Clerk leads her), 
* I deliver this" she says, 

" As ny act and deed, Sir." 

When I heard these funny words 

Come from lips so pretty ; 
This, I thought, should surely be 

Subject for a ditty. 

What I are ladies stagging it P 

Sure, the more 's the pity ; 
But I 've lost my heart to her, — 

Naughty little Kitty* 



THE LAST OP MAY. 

(HI BEFLY TO AK INVITATION DATED ON THE lsr.) 

By fate's benevolent award, 

8hould I survive the day, 
111 drink a bumper with my lord 

Upon the last of May. 



L 



60 BALLAD& 

That I may reach that happy time 

The kindly gods I pray. 
For are not ducks and pease in prime 

Upon the last of May P 

At thirty boards, Hwixt now and then, 
My knife and fork shall play ; 

Bat better wine and better men 
I shall not meet in May. 

And though, good friend, with whom I dine, 

Tour honest head is gray, 
And, like this grizzled head of mine, 

Has seen its last of May ; 

Yet, with a heart that 's ever kind, 

A gentle spirit gay, 
Yon 've spring perennial in your mind, 

And round you make a May ! 



'AH, BLEAK AND BARREN WAS THE MOOR* 

Ah ! bleak and barren was the moor, 

Ah ! loud and piercing was the storm, 
The cottage roof was shelter^ sure, 

The cottage hearth was bright and warm — 
An orphan-boy the lattice pass'd, 

And, as he mark'd its cheerful glow, 
Felt doubly keen the midnight blast, 

And doubly cold the fallen snow. 

They marked him as he onward press'd, 

With fainting heart and weary limb ; 
Kind voices bade him turn and rest, 

And gentle faces welcomed him. 
The dawn is up — the guest is gone, 

The cottage hearth is blazing still : 
Heaven pity all poor wanderers lone ! 

Hark to the wind upon the hill ! 



BALLADS. 61 



80NG OP THE VIOLET. 



A hukblb flower long time I pined 

Upon the solitary plain, 
And trembled at the angry wind, 

And shrunk before the bitter rain. 
And oh ! 't was in a blessed hour 

A passing wanderer chanced to see, 
And, pitying the lonely flower, 

To stoop and gather me. 

I fear no more the tempest rude, 

On dreary heath no more I pine, 
Bat left my cheerless solitude, 

To deck the breast of Caroline. 
Alas our days are brief at best, 

Nor long I fear will mine endure, 
Though shelter'd here upon a breast 

80 gentle and so pure. • 

It draws the fragrauce from my leaves, 

It robs me of my sweetest breath, 
And every time it falls and heaves, 

It warns me of my coming death. 
Bat one I know would glad forego 

All joys of life to be as I ; 
An hoar to rest on that sweet breast, 

And then, contented, die ! 



FAIRY DAYS. 

Bksidi the old hall-fire — upon my nurse's knee, 
Of happy fairy days — what tales were told to me ! 
I thought the world was once — all peopled with princesses, 
And my heart would beat to hear — their loves and their dis- 
tresses: 
And many a quiet night, — in slumber sweet and deep, 
The pretty fairy people — would visit me in sleep. 



62 BALLADS. 

I saw them in my dreams — come flying east and west, 
With wondrous fairy gifts — the new-born babe they bless'd ; 
One has brought a jewel — and one a crown of gold, 
And one has brought a curse — but she is wrinkled and old. 
The gentle queen turns pale — to hear those words of sin, 
But the king he only laughs — and bids the dance begin. 

The babe has grown to be — the fairest of the land, 
And rides the forest green — a hawk upon her hand, 
An ambling palfrey white — a golden robe and crown : 
I 've seen her in my dreams — riding up and down : 
And heard the ogre laugh — as she fell into his snare, 
At the little tender creature — who wept and tore her hair ! 

But ever when it seemed — her need was at the sorest, 

A prince in sinning mail — comes prancing through the forest, 

A waving ostrich-plume — a buckler burnished bright ; 

I 've seen him in my dreams — good sooth ! a gallant knight. 

His lips are coral red — beneath a dark moustache ; 

See how he waves his hand — and how his blue eyes flash ! 

" Come forth, thou Paynim knight ! " — he shouts in accents 

clear. 
The giant and the maid — both tremble his voice to hear. 
Saint Mary guard Mm well ! — he draws his falchion keen, 
The giant and the knight — are fighting on the green. 
I see them in my dreams — his blade gives stroke on stroke, 
The giant pants and reels — and tumbles like an oak ! 

With what a blushing grace — he falls upon his knee 

And takes the lady's hand — and whispers, " You are free ! " 

Ah ! happy childish tales — of knight and faerie ! 

I waken from my dreams — but there 's ne'er a knight for me ; 

I waken from my dreams — and wish that I could be 

A child by the old hall-fire — upon my nurse's knee ! 



BALLADS. 63 



POCAHONTAS. 



Wearied arm and broken sword 
Wage in Tain the desperate fight : 

Round him press a countless horde, 
He is but a single knight. 

Hark 1 a cry of triumph shrill 
Through the wilderness resounds, 
As, with twenty bleeding wounds, 

Sinks the warrior fighting still. 

Now they heap the fatal pyre, 
And the torch of death they light : 

Ah ! 'tis hard to die of fire ! 
Who will shield the captive knight ? 

Round the stake with fiendish cry 
Wheel and dance the savage crowd, 
Cold the victim's mein, and proud, 

And his breast is bared to die. 

Who will shield the fearless heart P 
Who avert the murderous blade P 

Prom the throng, with sudden start, 
See there springs an Indian maid. 

Quick she stands before the knight, 

" Loose the chain, unbind the ring, 
I am daughter of the king, 

And I claim the Indian right ! " 

Dauntlessly aside she flings 
Lifted axe and thirsty knife ; 

Fondly to his heart she clings, 
And her bosom guards his life ! 

In the woods of Powhatan, 
Still 't is told by Indian fires, 
How a daughter of their sires 

Saved the captive Englishman. 



64 BALLAD& 



FROM POCAHONTAS. 

Retukming from the cruel fight 

How pale and faint appears my knight ! 

He sees me anxious at his side ; 

" Why seek, my lo?e, your wounds to hide ? 

Or deem your English girl afraid 

To emulate the Indian maid ? " 

Be mine my husband's grief to cheer 
In peril to be ever near ; 
Whate'er of ill or woe betide, 
To bear it clinging at his side ; 
The poisoned stroke of fate to ward, 
His bosom with my own to guard : 
Ah ! could it spare a pang to his, 
It could not know a purer bliss ! 
'T would gladden as it felt the smart, 
And thank the hand that flung the dart ! 



LOVE-SONGS MADE EASY. 



WHAT MAKES MY HEART TO THRILL AND 
GLOW? 

THE MAYJAIB. LOVE-SONG. 

Wioter and summer, night and morn, 
I languish at this table dark ; 

My office window has a corn- 
er looks into St. James's Park. 

I hear the foot-guards' bugle-horn, 
Their tramp upon parade I mark ; 

I am a gentleman forlorn, 
I am a Foreign-Office Clerk. 

My toils, my pleasures, every one, 

I find are stale, and dull, and slow ; 
And yesterday, when work was done, 

I felt myself so sad and low, 
I could have seized a sentry's gun 

My wearied brains out out to blow. 
What is it makes my blood to run P 

What makes my heart to beat and glow P 

My notes of hand are burnt, perhaps P 

Some one has paid my tailor's bill ? 
No: every morn the tailor raps ; 

My I O U's are extant still. 
I'still am prey of debt and dun ; 

My elder brother 's stout and welL 
What is it makes my blood to run P 

What makes my heart to glow and swell P 
vol. xxix.— 6 



66 BALLADS. 

I know my chiefs distrust and hate ; 

He says I 'm lazy, and I shirk. 
Ah ! had I genius like the late 

Right Honorable Edmund Burke ! 
My chance of all promotion 's gone, 

I know it is, — he hates me so. 
What is it makes my blood to run, 

And all my heart to swell and glow P 

Why, why is all so bright and gay P 

There is no change, there is no cause ; 
My office-time I found to-day 

Disgusting as it ever was. 
At three, I went and tried the Clubs, 

And yawned and sauntered to and fro ; 
And now my heart jumps up and throbs, 

And all my soul is in a glow. 

At half-past four I had the cab ; 
I drove as hard as I could go. 

The London sky was dirty drab, 
And dirty brown the London snow. 

And as I rattled in a cant- 
er down by dear old Bolton Bow, 

A something made my heart to pant, 
And caused my cheek to flush and glow. 

What could it be that made me find 

Old Jawkins pleasant at the Club ? 
Why was it that I laughed and grinned 

At whist, although I lost the rub P 
What was it made roe drink like mad 

Thirteen small glasses of Curacoa P 
That made my inmost heart so glad, 

And every fibre thrill and glow ? 

She 's home again ! she 's home, she 's home ! 

Away all cares and griefs and pain ; 
I knew she would — she 's back from Rome ; 

She 's home again I she 's home again ! 



LOVE-SONGS MADE EASY. 67 

"The family 's gone abroad," they said, 

September last — they told me so ; 
Since then my lonely heart is dead, 

My blood I think 's forgot to flow. 

She 's home again ! away all care ! 

O fairest form the world can show ! 
beaming eyes ! O golden hair ! 

O tender voice, that breathes so low ! 
gentlest, softest, purest heart ! 

joy, O hope ! — "My tiger, ho ! n 
Fitz-Clarenoe said ; we saw him start — 

He galloped down to Bolton Row. 



THE GHAZXJL, OH ORIENTAL LOVE-SONG. 

THE BOCKS. 

I was a timid little antelope ; 

My home was in the rocks, the lonely rocks. 

I saw the hunters scouring on the plain ; 
I lived among the rocks, the lonely rocks. 

I was a- thirsty in the summer-heat ; 

I ventured to the tents beneath the rocks. 

Zuleikah brought me water from the well ; 
Since then I have been faithless to the rocks. 

I saw her face reflected in the well ; 

Her camels since have marched into the rocks. 

I looked to see her image in the well ; 
I only see my eyes, my own sad eyes. 
My mother is alone among the rocks. 



BALLADS. 



THE MERRY BARD. 

Zuleikah! The young Agas in the bazaar are slim-waisted 
and wear yellow slippers. I am old and hideous. One of my 
eyes is out, and the hairs of my beard are mostly gray. Praise 
be to Allah ! I am a merry bard. 

There is a bird upon the terrace of the Emir's chief wife. 
Praise be to Allah ! He has emeralds on his neck, and a ruby 
tail I am a merry bard. He deafens me with his diabolical 
screaming. 

There is a little brown bird in the basket-maker's cage. Praise 
be to Allah ! He ravishes my soul in the moonlight. I am a 
merry bard. 

The peacock is an Aga, but the little bird is a BulbuL 

I am a little brown BulbuL Come and listen in the moonlight 
Praise be to Allah I I am a merry bard. 



THE CAIQUE. 

Yonder to the kiosk, beside the creek, 

Paddle the swift caique, 

Thou brawny oarsman with the sun-burnt cheek, 

Quick ! for it soothes my heart to hear the Bulbul speak. 

Ferry me quickly to the Asian shores. 

Swift bending to your oars, 

Beneath the melancholy sycamores, 

Hark ! what a ravishing note the love-lorn Bulbul pours. 

Behold, the boughs seem quivering with delight, 

The stars themselves more bright, 

As mid the waving branches out of sight 

The lover of the Rose sits singing through the night. 



L0VE-S0NG8 MADE EAST. 

Under the boughs I sat and listened still, 
I could not have my fill 
" How comes/' I said, " such music to his bill P 
Tell me for whom he sings so beautiful a trilL" 

* Once I was dumb/' then did the Bird disclose, 
" Bat looked upon the Rose ; 
And in the garden where the loved one grows 
I straightway did begin sweet music to compose." 

" O bird of song, there 'a one in this caique, 

The Rose would also seek, 

So he might learn like jou to love and speak." 

Then answered me the bird of dusky beak, 

" The Rose, the Rose of Love blushes on Leilah's cheek. 1 



MY NORA. 

Bsveath the gold acacia buds 
My gentle Nora sits and broods, 
Far, far away in Boston woods 

My gentle Nora f 

I see the tear-drop in her e'e, 
Her bosom 's heaving tenderly ; 
I know — I know she thinks of me, 

My Darling Nora ! 

And where am I P My love, whilst thou 
Sitt'st sad beneath the acacia bough, 
Where pearl's on neck, and wreath on brow, 
I stand, my Nora ! 

Mid carcanet and coronet, 

Where joy-lamps shine and flowers are set — 

Where England's chivalry are met, 

Behold me, Nora ! 



70 BALLADS. 

Iu this strange soene of revelry, 
Amidst this gorgeous chivalry, 
A form I saw was like to thee, 

My love — mj Nora ! 

She paused amidst her converse glad ; 
The lady saw that I was sad, 
She pitied the poor lonely lad, — 

Dost love her, NoraP 

In sooth she is a lovely dame, 
A lip of red, and eye of flame, 
And clustering golden looks, the .same 

As thine, dear Nora ? 

Her glance is softer than the dawn's, 
Her foot is lighter than the fawn's, 
Her breast is whiter than the swan's 

Or thine, my Nora ! 

Oh, gentle breast to pity me ! 
Oh, lovely Ladye Emily ! 
Till death— till death I '11 think of thee — 
Of thee and Nora! 



TO MARY. 

I seem, in the midst of the crowd, 

The lightest of all; 
My laughter rings cheery and loud, 

In banquet and ball. 
My lip hath its smiles and its sneers, 

For all men to see; 
But my soul, and my truth, and my tears, 

Are for thee, are for thee 1 



LOVE-SONGS MADE EASY. 71 

Around me they flatter and fawn — 

The young and the old. 
The fairest are ready to pawn 

Their hearts for my gold 
They sue me — I laugh as I spurn 

The slayes at my knee ; 
But in faith and in fondness I turn 

Unto thee, unto thee ! 



SERENADE. 

Now the toils of day are over, 
And the sun hath sunk to rest. 

Seeking, like a fiery lover, 
The bosom of the blushing west — 

The faithful night keeps watch and ward, 
Raising the moon her silver shield, 

And summoning the stars to guard 
The slumbers of my fair Mathilde ! 

The faithful night ! Now all things He 
Hid by her mantle dark and dim, 

In pious hope I hither hie, 
And humbly chant mine evening hymn. 

Thou art my prayer, my saint, my shrine ! 

(For never holy pilgrim kneel'd, 
Or wept at feet more pure than thine) 

My virgin love, my sweet Mathilde ! 



THE MINARET BELLS. 

TimL-A-riNK, tink-a-tink, 
By the light of the star, 

On the blue river's brink, 
I heard a guitar. 



72 BALLAD8. 

I heard a guitar, 
On the blue waters clear, 

And knew bj its music, 
That Selim was near! 

Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, 
How the soft music swells, 

And I hear the soft clink 
Of the minaret bells ! 



COME TO THE GREENWOOD TREE. 

Comb to the greenwood tree, 
Come where the dark woods be, 
Dearest, come with me ! 
Let us rove — my love— O mj love! 

Come — 't is the moonlight hour, 
Dew is on leaf and flower, 
Come to the linden bower, — 
Let us rove — O mj love— O my love. 

Dark is the wood, and wide : 
Dangers, they say, betide; 
But, at my Albert's side, 
Nought I fear, O my love — . O my love ! 

Welcome the greenwood tree, 
Welcome the forest free, 
Dearest with thee, with thee, 
Nought I fear, my love — my love ! 



FIVE GERMAN DITTIES. 



A TBAGIC 8T0RY. 

BY ADELBERT YON CHAMISSO. 
" — '• war Bluer, dem's zn Heraen gieng." 

There lived a sage in days of yore 
And he a handsome pigtail wore ; 
But wondered much and sorrowed more 
Because it hong behind him. 

He mused upon this curious case, 

And swore he 'd change the pigtail's place, 

And have it hanging at his face, 

Not dangling there behind him. 

Says he, " The mystery I *ve found, — 
I 'U turn me round," — he turned him round ; 
But still it hung behind him. 

Then round, and round, and out and in, 
All day the puzzled sage did spin ; 
In vain — it mattered not a pin, — 

The pigtail hung behind him. 

And right, and left, and round about, 
And up, and down, and in, and out, 
He turned ; but still the pigtail stout 
Hung steadily behind him. 

And though his efforts never slack, 

And though he twist, and twirl, and tack, 

Alas ! still faithful to his back 

The pigtail hangs behind him. 



74 BALLADS. 

THE CHAPLET. 

TBOM UHLAND. 
" Bs pfl&ckte BMtmkin mumigfrtt" 

A little girl through field and wood 
Went plucking flowerets here and there 

When suddenly beside her stood 
A lady wondrous fair ! 

The lovely lady smiled, and laid 
A wreath upon the maiden's brow; 

" Wear it, 't will blossom soon," she said, 
" Although 't is leafless now." 

The little maiden older grew 
And wandered forth of moonlight eves, 

And sighed and loved as maids will do ; 
When, lo ! her wreath bore leaves. 

Then was our maid a wife, and hung 
Upon a joyful bridegroom's bosom ; 

When from the garland's leaves there sprang 
Fair store of blossom. 

And presently a baby (air 
Upon her gentle breast she reared ; 

When midst the wreath that bound her hair 
Rich golden fruit appeared. 

But when her love lay cold in death, 
Sunk in the black and silent tomb, 

All sere and withered was the wreath 
That wont so bright to bloom. 

Yet still the withered wreath she wore ; 

She wore it at her dying hour ; 
When, lo ! the wondrous garland bore 

Both leaf, and fruit, and flower ! 



FIVE GERMAN DITTIES. 75 

THE KING ON THE TOWER. 

7B0M UHLAKD. 
" D* llegen sie alle, die grauen Htfhen." 
The cold gray bills they bind me around, 

The darksome valleys lie sleeping below, 
Bat the winds as they pass o'er all this ground 
Bring me never a sound of woe ! 

Oh ! for all I have suffered and striven, 
Care has embittered my cup and my feast ; 

But here is the night and the dark blue heaven, 
And my soul shall be at rest 

O golden legends writ in the skies ! 

I turn towards you witn ranging soul, 
And list to the awful harmonies 

Of the Spheres as on they roll. 

If y hair is gray and my sight nigh gone ; 

My sword it rusteth upon the wall ; 
Bight have I spoken, and right have I done : 

When shall I rest me once for all? 

O blessed rest ! royal night ! 

Wherefore seemeth the time so long 
Till I see yon stars in their fullest light, 

And list to their loudest song P 



ON A VERY OLD WOMAN. 

LA MOTTE POXJQUi. 

"Und Da gtagtt einit, die UjtV im Haftre." 
And thou wert once a maiden fair, 

A blushing virgin warm and young : 
With myrtles wreathed in golden hair, 
And glossy brow that knew no care — 

Upon a bridegroom's arm you hung. 






76 BALLADS. 

The golden locks are silvered now, 

The blushing cheek is pale and wan; 
The spring may bloom, the autumn glow, 
All 's one — in chimney corner thou 
8itt'st shivering on. — 

A moment — and thou sink'st to rest ! 
To wake perhaps an angel blest, 

In the bright presence of thy Lord. 
Oh, weary is life's path to all ! 
Hard is the strife and light the fall, 

But wondrous the reward ! 



A CREDO. 



Fob the sole edification 
Of this decent congregation, 
Goodly people, by your grant 
I will sing a holy chant — 

I will sing a holy chant — 
If the ditty sound but oddly, 
T was a father, wise and godly, 

Sang it so long ago — 
Then sing as Martin Luther sang, 
As Doctor Martin Luther sang : 
" Who loves not wine, woman and song, 
He Is a fool his whole life long ! " 

11. 

He, by custom patriarchal, 
Loved to see the beaker sparkle ; 
And he thought the wine improved, 
Tasted by the lips he loved — 

By the kindly lips he loved. 
Friends, I wish this custom pious 
Duly were observed by us, 

To combine love, song, wine, 



FIVE GERMAN DITTIES. 77 

And sing as Martin Luther sang, 
As Doctor Martin Luther sang : 
" Who loves not wine, woman and song, 
He is a fool his whole life long! " 

in. 

Who refuses this our Credo, 
And who will not sing as we do, 
Were he holj as John Knox, 
I 'd pronounce him heterodox ! 

I 'd pronounce him heterodox. 
And from out this congregation, 
With a solemn commination, 

Banish quick the heretic* 
Who will not sing as Luther sang, 
As Doctor Martin Luther sang : 
• Who loves not wine, woman and song, 
He is a fool his whole life long ! " 



FOUR IMITATIONS OF B^RANGER. 



LE ROI D'YVETOT. 

Il 6tait mi roi d'Yvetot, 

Pea connu dans Fhistoire ; 
Se levant tard, se couchant t6t» 

Dormant fort bien sans gloire, 
Et couronne* par Jeanneton 
D'un simple bonnet de coton, 
Dit-on. 
Ob! ob! ob! ob! ab! ah! ah! ah! 
Quel bon petit roi c'6tait 1a ! 
La, la. 

II fesait ses qnatre repas 

Dans son palais de chaume, 
Et snr on ane, pas a pas, 

Parconrait son royanme. 
Jojenx, simple et croyant le bien, 
Pour tonte garde il n'avait rien 
Qu'un cbien. 
Ob! ob! ob! ob! ab ! ab! ab! ab! etc. 

II n'avait de gout onlreux 

Qu'une soif un pen vive ; 
Mais, en rendant son penple beureux, 

II faut bien qn'nn roi vive. 
Lui-me'me k table, et sans supp6t, 
Sur chaque muid levait un pot 
D'impot. 
Oh ! ob ! ob ! ob ! ab ! ab ! ab ! ab ! etc. 



FOUR IMITATIONS OF BfcRANGER. 79 

Aux fiUes de bonnes maisons 

Gomme il avait an plaire, 
Ses sujets avaient cent raisons 

De le nommer lenr pere : 
D'ailleurs il ne levait de ban 
Que pour tirer qnatre fob Pan 
Au blane. 
Oh! oh! oh! oh! ah! ah! ah! ah! etc. 

II n'agrandit point ses Stats, 

Fut Tin voisin commode, 
Et, modele des potentats, 

Frit le plaisir pour code. 
Ce n'est que lorsqu'il expire, 
Que le peuple qui Penterra 
Pleura. 
Oh! oh! oh! oh! ah! ah! ah! ah! etc. 

On conserve encor le portrait 
De ce digne et bon prince ; 
C'est l'enseigne d'un cabaret 
Fameux dans la province. 
Les jours de f£te, bien souvent, 
La fonle s'ecrie en buvant 
Devant : 
Oh! oh! oh! oh! ah! ah! ah! ah! etc. 



THE KING OF YVETOT. 

These was a king of Yvetot, 

Of whom renown hath little said, 
Who let all thoughts of glory go, 

And dawdled half his days a-bed ; 
And every night, as night came round, 
By Jenny, with a nightcap crowned, 
Slept very sound : 
Sing ho, ho, ho ! and he, he, he ! 
That 's the kind of king for me. 



80 BALLADS. 

And every day it came to pass, 

That four lusty meals made he ; 
And, step by step, upon an ass, 

Rode abroad, his realms to see ; 
And wherever he did stir, 
What think you was his escort, sir? 
Why, an old cur. 
Sing ho, ho, ho! etc. 

If e'er he went into excess, 

'T was from a somewhat lively thirst ; 
But he who would his subjects bless, 

Odd's fish ! — must wet his whistle first ; 
And so from every cask they got, 
Our king did to himself allot, 
At least a pot. 
Sing ho, ho ! etc. 

To all the ladies of the land, 

A courteous king, and kind, was he ; 
The reason why you '11 understand, 

They named him Pater Patris. 
Bach year he called his fighting men, 
And marched a league from home, and then 
Marched back again. 
Sing ho, ho 1 etc. 

Neither by force nor false pretence, 

He sought to make his kingdom great, 
And made (0 princes, learn from hence), — 
" Live and let live," his rule of state. 
'T was only when he came to die, 
That his people who stood by, 
Were known to cry. 
Sing ho, ho ! etc. 

The portrait of this best of kings 

Is extant still, upon a sign 
That on a village tavern swings, 

Famed in the country for good wine. 



FOUR IMITATIONS OF BfiBANGKB. 81 

The people in their Sunday trim, 
Filling their glasses to the brim, 
Look up to him, 

Singing ha, ha, ha ! and he, he, he ! 

That 's the sort of king for me. 



THE KING OF BRENTFORD. 

ANOTHER VERSION. 

There was a king in Brentford, — of whom no legends tell, 
But who, without his glory, — could eat and sleep right well. 
His Polly's cotton nightcap, — it was his crown of state, 
He slept of evenings early, — and rose of mornings late. 

AH in a fine mud palace, — each day he took four meals, 

And for a guard of honor, — a dog ran at his heels, 

Sometimes, to view his kingdoms, — rode forth this monarch 

good, 
And then a prancing jackass — he royally bestrode. 

There were no costly habits — with which this king was curst, 
Except (and where *s the harm on't?) — a somewhat lively 

thirst; 
But people must pay taxes, — and kings must have their sport, 
So out of every gallon — His Grace he took a quart. 

He pleased the ladies round him, — with manners soft and 

aland; 
With reason good, they named him, — the father of his land. 
Each year his mighty armies — marched forth in gallant show ; 
Their enemies were targets — their bullets they were tow. 

He vexed no quiet neighbor, — no useless conquest made, 
But by the laws of pleasure, — his peaceful realm he swayed. 
And in the years he reigned, — through all this country wide, 
There was no cause for weeping, — save when the good man 

died. 

vol. xxix. — 6 



g2 BALLADS. 

The faithful men of Brentford, — do still their king deplore, 
His portrait yet is swinging, — beside an alehouse door. 
And topers, tender-hearted, — regard his honest phiz, 
And envy times departed — that knew a reign like his. 



LE GRENIER. 

Je viens revoir Pasile oil ma jeunesse 
De la misere a subi les lecons. 
J 'avals viiigt ans, une folle maitresse, 
De francs amis et l'amour des chansons. 
Bravant le monde et les sots et les sages, 
Sails avenir, riche de mon printemps, 
Leste et joyeux je montais six Stages, 
Dans on grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans. 

C'est un grenier, point ne veux qu'on l'ignore. 
La fut mon lit, bien che* tif et bien dur ; 
Ik fut ma table ; et je retrouve encore 
Trois pieds d'un vers charbonnls sur le raur. 
Apparaissez, plaisirs de mon bel age, 
Que d'un coup d'aile a fustige's le temps, 
Vingt fois pour vous j'ai ma montre en gage. 
Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! 

Lisette ici doit snrtout apparaftre, 
Vive, jolie, avec un frais chapeau ; 
D6ja sa main a l'6troite fen&tre 
Suspend son schal, en guise de rideau. 
Sa robe aussi va parer ma couchette ; 
Respecte, Amour, ses plis longs et flottans. 
J'ai su depuis qui payait sa toilette 
Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans! 

A table un jour, jour de grande richesse, 
De mes amis les voix brillaient en choeur, 
Quand jusqu'ici monte un cri d'allegresse ; 
A Marengo Bonaparte est vainqueur. 



FOUR IMITATIONS 07 B&RANGER. 83 

Le canon gronde ; nn autre chant commence ; 
Nous cellbrons tant de faits eclatans. 
Les roia jamais n'envahiront la France. 
Dans nn grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! 

Qnittons ce toit ou ma raison s'enivre. 
Oh ! qu'ils sont loin ces jours si regrettls ! 
J'eebangerais ce qu'il me reste k vivre 
Contre un des mois qu'ici Dieu m'a oompte*. 
Four river gloire, amour, plaisir, folie, 
Pour depenser sa vie en peu d'instans, 
D'un long espoir pour la voir embellie, 
Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! 



THE GARRET. 

With pensive eyes the little room I view, 

Where, in my youth, I weathered it so long; 
With a wild mistress, a stanch friend or two, 

And a light heart still breaking into song : 
Making a mock of life, and all its cares, 

Rich in the glory of my rising sun, 
Lightly I vaulted up four pair of stairs, 

In the brave days when I was twenty-one. 

Yes ; 't is a garret — let him know 't who will — 

There was my bed — full hard it was and small ; 
My table there — and I decipher still 

Half a lame couplet charcoaled on the wall. 
Ye joys, that Time hath swept with him away, 

Come to mine eyes, ye dreams of love and fun ; 
For you I pawned my watch how many a day, 

In the brave days when I was twenty-one. 






84 BALLADS. 

And see my little Jessy, first of all ; 

She comes with pouting lips and sparkling eyes : 
Behold, how roguishly she pins her shawl 

Across the narrow casement, curtain-wise ; 
Now by the bed her petticoat glides down, 

And when did woman look the worse in none? 
I have heard since who paid for many a gown. 

In the brave days when I was twenty-one. 

One jolly evening, when my friends and I 

Made happy music with our songs and cheers, 
A shout of triumph mounted up thus high, 

And distant cannon opened on our ears : 
We rise, — we join in the triumphant strain, — 

Napoleon conquers — Austerlita is won — 
Tyrants shall never tread us down again, 

In the brave days when I was twenty-one. 

Let us begone — the place is sad and strange — 

How far, far off, these happy times appear ; 
All that I have to live I 'd gladly change 

For one such month as I have wasted here — 
To draw long dreams of beauty, love, and power, 

From founts of hope that never will outrun, 
And drink all life's quintessence in an hour, 

Give me the days when I was twenty-one ! 



KOGER-BONTEMPS. 

Aux gens atrabilaires 
Pour exemple donnl, 
En un temps de miseres 
Roger-Bontemps est ne\ 
Yivre obscur h sa guise, 
Narguer les mlcontens * 
Eh gai ! c'est la devise 
Du gros Roger-Bontemps. 




FOUR IMITATIONS OF B&RAKGER. 85 

Du chapeau de son pere 
Coiffe* dans les grands jours, 
De roses ou de lierre 
Le rajeunir toujoors ; 
Mettre un manteau de bure, 
Vieil ami de vingt ans ; 
Eh gai ! e'est la parure 
Du gros Roger-Bontemps. 

Posslder dans sa liutte 
Une table, un vieux lit, 
Des cartes, une flute, 
Un broc que Dieu remplit ; 
Un portrait de maftresse, 
Un coffre et rien dedans ; 
Eh gai ! e'est la richesse 
Du gros Roger-Bontemps. 

Aux enfans de la yille 
Montrer de petits jeux ; 
Etre fesseur habile 
De contes graveleux ; 
Ne parler que de danse 
Et d'almanaohs chantans : 
Eh gai ! e'est la science 
Du gros Roger-Bontemps. 

Faute de vins d'elite, 
8abler ceux du canton : 
PreT<6rer Marguerite 
Aux dames du grand ton : 
De joie et de tendresse 
Remplir tons ses instans : 
Eh gait e'est la sagesse 
Du gros Roger-Bontemps. 

Dire au ciel : Je me ^ 
Monpere, atabont6; 
De ma philosophic 
Pardonnelegaftl; 



86 BALLADS. 

Que ma saisom dernier© 
Soit encore un printempe ; 
Eh gai ! c'est la priere 
Da gros Roger-Bontemps. 

Vous pauvres pleins d'envie, 
Yous riches pesireux, 
Yous, dont le char dene 
Apres un cours heureux ; 
Yous qui perdrex peut-etre 
Des titrea 6clatans, 
Eh gai ! prenes pour maitre 
Le gros Roger-Bontemps. 



JOLLY JACK. 

Whin fierce political debate 

Throughout the isle was storming, 
And Eads attacked the throne and state, 

And Tories the reforming, 
To calm the furious rage of each, 

And right the land demented, 
Heaven sent us Jolly Jack, to teach 

The way to be contented. 

Jack's bed was straw, 't was warm and soft, 

His chair, a three-legged stool ; 
His broken jug was emptied oft, 

Yet, somehow, always full. 
His mistress* portrait decked the wall, 

His mirror had a crack ; 
Yet, gay and glad, though this was all 

His wealth, lived Jolly Jack. 

To give advice to avarice, 
Teach pride its mean condition, 

And preach good sense to dull pretence, 
Was honest Jack's high mission. 



SOUR IMITATIONS OP bArANGEB. 87 

Oar simple statesman found his rule 

Of moral in the flagon, 
And held his philosophic school 

Beneath the '* George and Dragon.' 9 

When village Solons cursed the Lords, 

And called the malt-tax sinful, 
Jack heeded not their angry words, 

But smiled and drank his skinful. 
And when men wasted health and life, 

In search of rank and riches, 
Jack marked aloof the paltry strife, 

And wore his threadbare breeches. 

" I enter not the church/' he said, 

"But 111 not seek to rob it;" 
So worthy Jack Joe Miller read, 

While others studied Cobbett. 
His talk it was of feast and fun ; 

His guide the Almanack ; 
From youth to age thus gayly run 

The life of Jolly Jack. 

And when Jack prayed, as oft he would, 

He humbly thanked his Maker ; 
" I am," said he, " O Father good ! 

Nor Catholic nor Quaker : 
Give each his creed, let each proclaim 

His catalogue of curses ; 
I trust in Thee, and not in them, 

In Thee, and in Thy mercies ! 

" Forgive me if, midst all Thy works, 

No hint I see of damning; 
And think there 's faith among the Turks, 

And hope for e'en the Brahmin. 
Harmless my mind is, and my mirth, 

And kindly is my laughter : 
I cannot see the smiling earth, 

And think there 's hell hereafter." 



88 BALLADS. 

Jack died ; he left no legacy, 

Save that his story teaches : 
Content to peevish poverty; 

Humility to riches. 
Te scornful great, ye envious small. 

Gome follow in his track ; 
We all were happier, if we all 

Would copy Jolly Jack. 



IMITATION OP HORACE. 



TO HIS SERVING BOY. 

Peesicos odi 
Paer, apparatus; 
Displicent nexae 
Phflyrfi. corona) : 
Mitte sectari, 
Rosa quo locorum 
Sera moretur. 

Simplici myrto 
Nihil allabores 
Sedulus, caro : 
Neque te ministram 
Dedeoet myrtus, 
Neque me sub arctft 
Yite bibentem. 



AD MINISTRAM. 

Deab Lucy, you know what my wish is, - 

I hate all your Frenchified fuss : 
Your silly entrees and made dishes 

Were never intended for us. 
No footman in lace and in ruffles 

Need dangle behind my arm-chair ; 
And never mind seeking for truffles, 

Although they be ever so rare. 



90 BALLADS. 

Bat a plain leg of mutton, my Lucy, 

I prithee get ready at three : 
Have it smoking, and tender and juicy, 

And what better meat can there be ? 
And when it has feasted the master, 

*T will amply suffice for the maid ; 
Meanwhile I will smoke my canaster, 

And tipple my ale in the shade. 



OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW FACES. 



THE KNIGHTLY GUERDON.* 

Untrue to my Ulric I never could be, 

I vow by the saints and the blessed Marie, 

Since the desolate hour when we stood by the shore, 

And your dark galley waited to carry you o'er : 

My faith then I plighted, my love I confessed 

As I gave you the Battli-Axe marked with your crest ! 

When the old barons met in my father's old hall, 
Was not Edith the flower of the banquet and ball ? 
In the festival hour, on the lips of your bride, 
Was there ever a smile save with The* at my side ? 
Alone in my turret I loved to sit best, 
To blazon your Banker and broider your crest. 

i-WAPPINQ OLD 8TAIBS. 

•• Tour Molly has never been false, she declares, 
Since the last time we parted at Wapplng Old Stain ; 
When I aald that I would continue the same, 
And I gave you the 'bacoo-boz marked with my name. 
When I passed a whole fortnight between decks with yotu 
Did I e'er give a kiss, Tom, to one of your crew f 
To be useful and kind to my Thomas I stay'd, 
For his trousers I washed, and his grog too I made. 

" Though you promised last 8undsy to walk in the Ma& 
With 8usan from Deptford and likewise with Ball, 
In silence I stood your unkindness to hear, 
And only upbraided my Tom with a tear. 
Why should Sail, or should Susan, than me be more prised? 
For the heart that is true, Tom, should ne'er be despised I 
Then be oonstaat and kind, nor your Molly forsake, 
Still your trousers I Tl wash and your grog too 1 11 wake,** 



92 BALLAD& 

The knights were assembled, the tourney was gay ! 
Sir Ulrie rode first in the warrior-m&lee. 
In the dire battle-hour, when the tourney was done, 
And you gave to another the wreath you had won ! 
Though I never reproached thee, cold, cold was my breast, 
As I thought of that Battle-axe, ah! and that crest ! 

But away with remembrance, no more will I pine 
That others usurped for a time what was mine ! 
There 's a Festival Hour for my Ulric and me : 
Once more, as of old, shall he bend at my knee ; 
Once more by the side of the knight I love best 
Shall I blazon his Banner and braider his crest 



THE ALMACK'S ADIEU. 

Your Fanny was never false-hearted, 

And this she protests and she vows, 
From the trute moment when we parted 

On the staircase of Devonshire House ! 
I blushed when you asked me to marry, 

I vowed I would never forget ; 
And at parting I gave my dear Harry 

A beautiful vinegarette ! 

We spent en province all December, 

And I ne'er condescended to look 
At Sir Charles, or the rich county member, 

Or even at that darling old Duke. 
Tou were busy with dogs and with horses, 

Alone in my chamber I sat, 
And made you the nicest of purses, 

And the smartest black satin cravat ! 

At night with that vile Lady Frances 

(Je/aitoit moi tapiiserie) 
Tou danced every one of the dances, 

And never once thought of poor me ! 



OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW FACES. 

Mon pauvre petit cmur / what a shiver 
I felt as she danced the last set ; 

And you gave, O mon Dieu ! to revive her 
My beautiful vinegarette / 

Return, love ! away with coquetting ; 

This flirting disgraces a man ! 
And ah ! all the while you 're forgetting 

The heart of your poor little Fan ! 
Eevient / break away from those Circes, 

Bevietu, for a nice little chat ; 
And I 've made you the sweetest of purses, 

And a lovely black satin cravat ! 



WHEN THE GLOOM IS ON THE GLEN. 

When the moonlight 's on the mountain 

And the gloom is on the glen, 
At the cross beside the fountain 

There is one will meet thee then. 
At the cross beside the fountain ; 

Yes, the cross beside the fountain, 
There is one will meet thee then ! 

I have braved, since first we met, love, 

Many a danger in my course ; 
But I never can forget, love, 

That dear fountain, that old cross, 
Where, her mantle shrouded o'er her — 

For the winds were chilly then — 
First I met my Leonora, 

When the gloom was on the glen. 

Many a clime I 've ranged since then, love, 
Many a land I 've wandered o'er ; 

But a valley like that glen, love, 
Half so dear I never sor ! 



94 BALLADS. 



Ne'er saw maiden fairer, coyer, 
Than wert thou, my true love, when 

In the gloaming first I saw yer, 
In the gloaming of the glen ! 



THE RED FLAG. 

Where the quivering lightning flings 

His arrows from out the clouds, 
And the howling tempest sings 

And whistles among the shrouds, 
T is pleasant, 'tis pleasant to ride 

Along the foaming brine — 
Wilt be the Rover's bride P 

Wilt follow him, lady mine P 
Hurrah! 
For the bonny, bonny brine. 

Amidst the storm and rack, 

Ton shall see our galley pass, 
As a serpent, lithe and black, 

Glides through the waving grass. 
As the vulture swift and dark, 

Down on the ring-dove flies, 
You shall see the Rover's bark 

Swoop down upon his prize. 
Hurrah! 
For the bonny, bonny prise. 

Over her sides we dash, 

We gallop across her deck — 
Ha ! there 's a ghastly gash 

On the merchant-captain's neck — 
Well shot, well shot, old Ned ! 

Well struck, well struck, black James ! 
Our arms are red, and our foes are dead, 

And we leave a ship in flames ! 
Hurrah! 
For the bonny, bonny flames ! 



OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW FACES. 95 



DEAR JACK. 

Dear Jack, this white mug that with Guinness I fill, 
And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the Hill, 
Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jovial a sot 
As e'er drew a spigot, or drain'd a full pot — 
In drinking all round 't was his joy to surpass, 
And with all merry tipplers he swigg'd off his glass. 

One morning in summer, while seated so snug, 

In the porch of his garden, discussing his jug, 

Stern Death, on a sudden, to Tom did appear, 

And said, " Honest Thomas, come take your last bier." 

We kneaded his clay in the shape of this can, 

From which let us drink to the health of my Nan. 



COMMANDERS OF THE FAITHFUL. 

The Pope he is a happy man, 

His Palace is the Vatican, 

And there he sits and drains his can : 

The Pope he is a happy man. 

I often say when I'm at home, 

I 'd like to be the Pope of Rome. 

And then there 's Sultan Saladin, 
That Turkish Soldan full of sin; 
He has a hundred wives at least, 
By which his pleasure is increased : 
I 've often wished, I hope no sin, 
That I were Sultan Saladin. 

But no, the Pope no wife may choose, 
And so I would not wear his shoes ; 
No wine may drink the proud Paynim, 
And so I 'd rather not be him : 
My wife, my wine, I love, I hope, 
And would be neither Turk nor Pope. 



96 BALLADS. 



WHEN MOONLIKE ORE THE HAZURE SEA8. 

When moonlike ore the hazure seas 

In soft effulgence swells, 
When silver jews and balmy breaze 

Bend down the Lily's bells ; 
When calm and deap, the rosy sleap 

Has lapt your soal in dreems, 
R Hangeline ! R lady mine ! 

Dost thou remember Jeames ? 

I mark thee in the Marble All, 

Where England's loveliest shine — 
I say the fairest of them hall 

Is Lady Hangeline. 
My soul, in desolate eclipse, 

With recollection teems — 
And then I hask, with weeping lips, 

Dost thou remember Jeames ? 

Away ! I may not tell thee hall 

This soughring heart endures — 
There is a lonely sperrit-call 

That 8orrow never cures ; 
There is a little, little Star, 

That still above me beams ; 
It is the Star of Hope — but ar ! 

Dost thou remember Jeames P 



KING CANUTE. 

Kino Canute was weary hearted ; he had reigned for years a 

score, 
Battling, straggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and robbing 

more; 
And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild seashore. 



OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW PACES. 97 

Tvixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King with steps 

sedate, 
Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and goldsticks 

great, 
Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages, — all the officers of state. 

Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose to pause, 
If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers dropped 

their jaws ; 
If to laugh the king was minded, out they burst in loud hee-haws. 

But that day a something vexed him, that was clear to old and 
young : 

Thrice his Grace had yawned at table, when his favorite glee- 
men sung, 

Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he bade her hold 
her tongue. 

" Something ails my gracious master," cried the Keeper of the 

Seal 
" Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served to dinner, or the 

veal?" 
" Psha ! " exclaimed the angry monarch, "Keeper, 't is not that 

I feel 

"Tis the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my rest 

impair: 
Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know no care ? 
Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary." — Some one cried, "The 

King's arm-chair ! " 

Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my Lord the Keeper 
nodded, 

Straight the King's great chair was brought him, by two foot- 
men able-bodied ; 

Languidly he sank into it : it was comfortably wadded. 

" Leading on my fierce companions," cried he, " over storm and 

brine, 
I have fought and I have conquered ! Where was glory like to 

mineP" 
Loudly all the courtiers echoed : " Where is glory like to thine? " 
vol. xxix. — 7 



98 BALLAD& 

" What avail me all my kingdoms ? Weary am I now and old ; 
Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead and cold ; 
Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the silent mould ! 

" Oh, remorse, the writhing serpent ! at my bosom tears and 

bites; 
Horrid, horrid things I look on, though I put out all the lights ; 
Ghosts of ghastly recollections troop about my bed at nights. 

" Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious fires ; 
Mothers weeping, virgins screaming : vainly for their slaughtered 

sires." — 
"Such a tender conscience," cries the Bishop, "every one 

admires. 

" But for such unpleasant bygones, cease, my gracious lord, to 

search, 
They 're forgotten and forgiven by our Holy Mother Church ; 
Never, never does she leave her benefactors in the lurch. 

" Look ! the land is crowned with minsters, which your Grace's 

bounty raised ; 
Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven are daily 

praised: 
Tou % my lord, to think of dying? on my conscience I'm 

amazed!" 

" Nay, I feel," replied King Canute, that "my end is drawing 

near." 
" Don't say so," exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to squeeze 

a tear). 
" Sure your Grace is strong and lusty, and may live this fifty 

year." 

" Live these fifty years ! " the Bishop roared, with actions made 

to suit 
" Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak "of King 

Canute! 
Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his Majesty will do 't. 



OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW FACES. 99 

" Adam, Enoch, Lamech, Cainan, Mahaleel, Methusek, 

Lived nine hundred jean apiece, and may n't the King as well 

as they P " 
" Fervently/* exclaimed the Keeper, "fervently I trnst he may-" 

"He to die P " resumed the Bishop. " He a mortal like to us? 
Death was not for him intended, though communis omnibus : 
Keeper, you are irreligious, for to talk and cavil thus. 

" With his wondrous skill in healing ne'er a doctor can compete, 
Loathsome lepers, if he touch them, start up clean upon their 

feet; 
Surely he could raise the dead up, did his Highness think it meet. 

" Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the hill, 
And, the while he slew the foemen, bid the silver moon stand 

still P 
So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his sacred will" 

" Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop P " Canute 

cried; 
" Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly ride P 
If the moon obeys my orders, sure 1 can command the tide. 

"Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the 

signP" 
Said the Bishop, bowing lowly, " Land and sea, my lord, are 

thine." 
Canute turned towards the ocean — " Back ! " he said, " thou 

foaming brine. 

" From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to retreat ; 
Venture not, thou stormy rebel, to approach thy master's seat : 
Ocean, be thou still ! I bid thee come not nearer to my feet ! " 

Bat the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper roar, 
And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling sounding on the shore ; 
Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the king and courtiers 
bore. 



:-.^ 



100 BALLAD& 

And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay, 
But alone to praise and worship That which earth and seas obey : 
And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that daj. 
King Canute is dead and gone : Parasites exist alwaj. 



FRIAR'S SONG. 

Son love the matin-chimes, which tell 

The hour of prayer to sinner : 
But better far's the mid-day bell, 

Which speaks the hour of dinner ; 
For when I see a smoking fish, 

Or capon drown'd in gravy, 
Or noble haunch on silver dish, 

Full glad I sing my ave. 

My pulpit is an alehouse bench, 

Whereon I sit so jolly ; 
A smiling rosy country wench 

My saint and patron holy. 
I kiss her cheek so red and sleek, 

I press her ringlets wavy, 
And in her willing ear I speak 

A most religious ave. 

And if I *m blind, yet Heaven is kind, 

And holy saints forgiving ; 
For sure he leads a right good life 

Who thus admires good living. 
Above, they say, our flesh is air, 

Our blood celestial ichor : 
Oh, grant ! mid all the changes there, 

They may not change our liquor ! 



OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW PACKS. 101 



ATBA CUBA. 

Before I lost my five poor wits, 
I mind me of a Romish clerk, 
Who sang how Care, the phantom dark. 
Beside the belted horseman sits. 
Methought I saw the grisly sprite 
Jump np but now behind my Knight 

And though he gallop as he may, 
I mark that cursed monster black 
Still sits behind his honor's back, 
Tight squeezing of his heart alway. 
like two black Templars sit they there, 
Beside one crupper, Knight and Care. 

No knight am I with pennoned spear, 
To prance upon a bold destrere : 
I will not have black Care prevail 
Upon my long-eared charger's tail, 
For lo, I am a witless fool, 
And laugh at Grief and ride a mule. 



REQUIESCAT. 

Ukbke the stone you behold, 
Buried, and coffined, and cold, 
Lieth Sir Wilfrid the Bold. 

Always he marched in advance, 
Warring in Flanders and France, 
Doughty with sword and with lance. 

Famous in Saracen fight, 

Rode in his youth the good knight, 

Scattering Paynims in flight. 



102 BALLADS. 

Brian the Templar untrue, 
Fairly in tourney he slew, 
Saw Hierusalem too. 

Now he is buried and gone, 
Lying beneath the gray stone : 
Where shall you find such a one? 

Long time his widow deplored. 
Weeping the fate of her lord, 
Sadly cut off by the sword. 

When she was eased of her pain, 
Came the good Lord Athelstane, 
When her ladyship married again. 



LINES UPON MY SISTER'S PORTRAIT. 

BT THI LORD 80UTHDOWN. 

The castle towers of Bareacres are fair upon the lea, 
Where the cliffs of bonny Diddlesex rise up from out the sea: 
I stood upon the donjon keep and viewM the country o'er, 
I saw the lands of Bareacres for fifty miles or more. 
I stood upon the donjon keep — it is a sacred place, — 
Where floated for eight hundred years the banner of my race ; 
Argent, a dexter sinople, and gales an azure field : 
There ne'er was nobler cognizance on knightly warrior's shield. 

The first time England saw the shield 't was round a Norman 

neck, 
On board a ship from Valery, King William was on deck. 
A Norman lance the colors wore, in Hastings' fatal fray — 
St. Willibald for Bareacres ! 't was double gules that day ! 
O Heaven and sweet St. Willibald 1 in many a battle since 
A loyal-hearted Bareacres has ridden by his Prince ! 
At Acre with Plantagenet, with Edward at Poictiers, 
The pennon of the Bareacres was foremost on the spears ! 



OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW FACE8. 103 

T was pleasant in the battle-shock to hear onr war-cry ringing : 
Oh grant me, sweet St Willibald, to listen to such singing ! 
Three hundred steel-clad gentlemen, we drove the foe before us, 
And thirty score of British bows kept twanging to the chorus ! 

knights, my noble ancestors ! and shall I never hear 
St. Willibald for Bareacres through battle ringing clear ? 

1 'd cut me off this strong right hand a single hour to ride, 
And strike a blow for Bareacres, my fathers, at your side I 
Dash down, dash down, yon Mandolin, beloved sister mine ! 
Those blushing lips may never sing the glories of onr line : 
Our ancient castles echo to the clumsy feet of churls, 

The spinning-jenny houses in the mansion of onr Earls. 

Sing not, sing not, my Angeline ! in days so base and vile, 

T were sinful to be happy, 't were sacrilege to smile. 

Ill hie me to my lonely hall, and by its cheerless hob 

111 muse on other days, and wish— and wish I were — A Skob. 



THE 
LEGEND OP ST. SOPHIA OF KIOPP. 

AN EPIC POEM, IN TWENTY BOOKS. 



TJjJjJj!*! A thousand years ago, or more, 
the city and A city filled with burghers stout, 
KXoff. And girt with ramparts round about, 
or Kiova. Stood on the rocky Dnieper shore. 
In armor bright, by day and night, 

The sentries they paced to and fro. 
Well guarded and walled was this town, and called 

By different names, I *d have you to know ; 
For if you looks in the g'ography books, 
In those dictionaries the name it varies, 
And they write it off Kieff or Kioff, Kiova or Kiow. 

II. 

ita twfld- Thus guarded without by wall and redoubt 
logs, public ° / ■» 

worki, and Kiova within was a place of renown, 

^^ et » With more advantages than in those dark ages 

and dvu. Were commonly known to belong to a town. 

There were places and squares, and each year four fairs, 

And regular aldermen and regular lord-mayors ; 

And streets, and alleys, and a bishop's palace ; 

And a church with clocks for the orthodox — 

With clocks and with spires, as religion desires ; 

And beadles to whip the bad little boys 

Over their poor little corduroys, 

In service-time, when they did n't make a noise ; 

And a chapter and dean, and a cathedral-green 

With ancient trees, underneath whose shades 

Wandered nice young nursery-maids. 



THE LEGEND OF ST. SOPHIA OF KIOFF. 



105 



Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-a-ring-ding, 
The bells they made a merry merry ring, 
From the tall tall steeple ; and all the people 
(Except the Jews) came and filled the pews — 
Poles, Russians and Germans, 
To hear the sermons 
Which Hyacinth preached to those Germans and 
Poles, 
For the safety of their souls. 

m. 
A worthy priest he was and a stout — 

You've seldom looked on such a one ; 
For, though he mated thrice in a week, 
Yet nevertheless his skin was sleek ; 
His waist it spanned two yards about 
And he weighed a score of stone. 

A worthy priest for fasting and prayer 

And mortification most deserving; 
And as for preaching beyond compare, 
He'd exert his powers for three or four hours, 
With greater pith than Sydney Smith 

Or the Reverend Edward Irving. 
▼. 
He was the prior of Saint Sophia 
(A Cockney rhyme, but no better I know) — 
Of St. Sophia, that Church in Kiow, 

Built by missionaries I can't tell when ; 
Who by their discussions converted the Russians, 

And made them Christian men. 
▼i. 
Sainted Sophia (so the legend vows) 
With special favor did regard this house ; 

And to uphold her converts' new devotion 
Her statue (needing but her legs for her ship) 

Walks of itself across the German Ocean ; 
And of a sudden perches 
In this the best of churches, 
Whither all Kiovites come and pay it grateful worship. 



The poet 
shows how 
• certain 
priest dwelt 
at Kloff, a 
godly 
clergyman, 
and one that 
preached 
rare good 



How this 
prieetwaa 
•hort and 
fat of body. 



And like 
onto the 
author of 
" Plymley's 
Letter*." 



Of what 
convent he 
was prior, 
and when 
the convent 
was built. 



Of Saint 
Sophia of 
Kioff; and 
how her 
etatae mi- 
raculously 
travelled 
thither. 



106 



BALLADS. 



And bow 
Kloff 

should hare 
been a 
happy city j 
but that 



vn. 

Thus with her patron-stunts and pious preachers 
Recorded here in catalogue precise, 

A goodly city, worthy magistrates, 

You would have thought in all the Russian states 

The citizens the happiest of all creatures, — 
The town itself a perfect Paradise. 



Certain 
wicked Cos- 
aackadtd 
besiege it 



Murdering 
the citizens. 



Until they 
agreed to 
pay a trib- 
ute yearly. 



How they 
paid the 
tribute, and 
then sud- 
denly re- 
fused it. 

To the won- 
der of the 
Cossack 
envoy. 



vm. 

No, alas ! this well-built city 

Was in a perpetual fidget ; 
For the Tartars, without pity, 

Did remorselessly besiege it. 

Tartars fierce, with sword and sabres, 
Huns and Turks and such as these, 

Envied much their peaceful neighbors 
By the blue Borysthenes. 

Down they came, these ruthless Russians, 
From their steppes, and woods, and fens, 

For to levy contributions 
On the peaceful citizens. 

Winter, Summer, Spring, and Autumn, 
Down they came to peaceful Kioff, 

Killed the burghers when they caught 'em, 
If their lives they would not buy off. 

Till the city, quite confounded 

By the ravages they made, 
Humbly with their chief compounded, 

And a yearly tribute paid. 

Which (because their courage lax was) 
They discharged while they were able : 

Tolerated thus the tax was, 
Till it grew intolerable, 

And the Calmuo envoy sent, 
As before to take their dues all, 

Got, to his astonishment, 
A unanimous refusal 1 



THE LEGEND OF 8T. SOPHIA OF KIOFF. 



107 



" Men of Kioff ! " thus courageous 
Did the stout lord-mayor harangue them, 

" Wherefore pay these sneaking wages 
To the hectoring Russians P hang them ! 

"Hark! I hear the awful cry of 
Our forefathers in their graves ; 

" « Fight ye citizens of Kioff! 
Kioff was not made for slaves.' 

"All too long have ye betrayed her ; 

Rouse, ye men and aldermen, 
8end the insolent invader — 

Send him starring back again." 



Of a mighty 

gallant 

speech. 



That the 
lord-mayor 



Exhorting 
the burghers 
to pa j no 
longer. 



IX. 

He spoke and he sat down ; the people of the town, Of their 
Who were flred with a brave emulation, JJ^Sc* "^ 

Now rose with one accord, and voted thanks unto 
the lord- 
Mayor for his oration : 



The envoy they dismissed, never placing in his fist 

So much as a single shilling ; 
And all with courage fired, as his lordship he desired, 

At once set about their drilling. 

Then every city ward established a guard, 

Diurnal and nocturnal : 
Militia volunteers, light dragoons, and bombardiers, 

With an alderman for colonel 

There was muster and roll-calls, and repairing city 

And filling up of fosses : 
And the captains and the majors, so gallant and 
courageous, 

A-riding about on their bosses. 

To be guarded at all hours they built themselves 
watch-towers, 

With every tower a man on ; 
And surely and secure, each from out his embrasure, 

Looked down the iron cannon I 



Theydis- 
miaa the en- 
voy, and aet 
about drill- 
ing. 



Of the City 
guard: vis. 
militia, 



bardtera,and 
their com- 
manders. 

walls, 



Of the ma- 
jors and 
captains. 



The fortifi- 
cations and 
artillery. 



106 BALLADS. 

A battle-song was writ for the theatre, where it 

Was song with vast energy 
or the eon. &*& rapturous applause; and besides, the public 



duct of the 
acton and 



cause, 



tbe clergy. Was supported by the clergy. 

The pretty ladies'-maids were pinning of cockades, 

And tying on of sashes ; 
And dropping gentle tears, while their lovers bluster'd fierce, 

About gunshot and gashes ; 

Of tue The ladies took the hint, and all day were scraping 

ladiei; lint. 

As became their softer genders ; 
And got bandages and beds for the limbs and for the heads 
Of the city's brave defenders. 



The men, both young and old, felt resolute and bold, 

And panted hot for glory ; 

And, Anally, Even the tailors 'gan to brag, and embroidered on 
ofthetay- ., . a ° ^ 

ton. their flag, 

"AUT WINCBRB AUT MORI." 



Of the Co»- 8eeing the city's resolute condition, 
^hVrtnta- The Cossack chief, too cunning to despise it, 
«•■* > Said to himself, " Not having ammunition 

Wherewith to batter the place in proper form, 
8ome of these nights I '11 carry it by storm, 
And sudden escalade it or surprise it 

AjJ^ebur- « Let 's see, however, if the cits stand firmish." 
victoria. He rode up to the city gates ; for answers, 

Out rushed an eager troop of the town HiU % 
And straightway did begin a gallant skirmish : 
The Cossack hereupon did sound retreat, 
Leaving the victory with the city lancers. 

What mta- They took two prisoners and as many horses, 

toe*? ° J And t° e whole town grew quickly so elate 

With this small victory of their virgin forces, 



THE LEGEND OF J3T. SOPHIA OP KIOFP. 109 

That tbey did deem their privates and commanders 
So many Caesars, Porapeys, Alexanders, 
Napoleons, or Fredericks the Great. 

And puffing with inordinate conceit Art how 

They utterly despised these Cossack thieves ; ^Jwl 

And thought the ruffians easier to beat 

Than porters carpets think, or ushers boys. 

Meanwhile, a sly spectator of their joys, 
The Cossack captain giggled in his sleeves. 

" Whene'er you meet yon stupid city hogs " Of the Om- 

(He bade his troops precise this order keep), K« onkwT" 

" Don't stand a moment — run away, you dogs ! " 

'T was done ; and when they met the town battalions, 

The Cossacks, as if frightened at their valiance, 
Turned tail, and bolted like so many sheep. 

They fled, obedient to their captain's order : t^OS* ** 

And now this bloodless siege a month had lasted, retreat. * 

When, viewing the country round, the city warder 

(Who, like a faithful weathercock, did perch 

Upon the steeple of St. Sophy's church), 
Sudden his trumpet took, and a mighty blast he blasted. 

His voice it might be heard through all the streets T** WMder 
(He was a warder wondrous strong in lung), the Cos?* 

" Victory, victory ! the foe retreats ! " SSS'S 

" The foe retreats ! " each cries to each he meets ; ***• citle 
" The foe retreats ! " each in his turn repeats. Joyce/ 

Gods ! how the guns did roar, and how the joy-bells rung ! 

Arming in haste his gallant city lancers, 
The mayor, to learn if true the news might be, 

A league or two out issued with his prancers. 

The Cossacks (something bad given their courage a damper) 

Hastened their flight, and 'gan like mad to scamper : 
Blessed be all the saints, Kiova town was free ! 



110 BALLAD& 



Now, puffed with pride, the mayor grew Tain, 

Fought all bis battles o'er again ; 

And thrice he ranted all his foes, and thrioe he slew the slain. 

'T is 4 true he might amuse himself thus, 

And not be very murderous ; 

For as of those who to death were done 

The number was exactly none, 

His lordship, in his soul's elation, 

Did take a bloodless recreation — 
MMrfthe G° in g uome again* he did ordain 
clue's re- A very splendid cold collation 
joycingi, p or ^ magistrates and the corporation ; 
Likewise a grand illumination, 
For the amusement of the nation. 
That night the theatres were free, 
The conduits they ran Malvoisie ; 
Each house that night did beam with light 

And sound with mirth and jollity : 
Aa&to tm- But 8 h amej o Shame ! not a soul in the town, 

Now the city was safe and the Cossacks flown, 
Ever thought of the bountiful saint by whose care 
The town had been rid of these terrible Turks — 
Said even a prayer to that patroness fair, 

How the ^ or ^ Iese ^ er won ^ rous works ! 

priest, Hya- Lord Hyacinth waited, the meekest of priors — 

waited at He waited at church with the rest of his friars ; 

SobUdr *° d He went there at noon and he waited till ten, 

came Expecting in vain the lord-mayor and his men. 

thither. jj e wa j te ^ ^ ^ted from mid-day to dark ; 

But in vain — you might search through the whole of the church, 

Not a layman, alas ! to the city's disgrace, 

From mid-day to dark showed his nose in the place. 

The pew-woman, organist, beadle, and clerk, 

Kept away from their work, and were dancing like mad 

Away in the streets with the other mad people, 

Not thinking to pray, but to guzzle and tipple 

Wherever the drink might be had. 



THE LEGEND OP ST. SOPHIA OF EJOFF. Ill 



xn. 
Amidst this din and revelry throughout the city roar- Ho * *• 

ing, to bid them 

The silver moon rose silently, and high in heaven to P*** 6 *- 

soaring; 
Prior Hyacinth was fervently upon his knees adoring : 
"Towards my precious patroness this conduct sure unfair is ; 
I cannot think, I must confess, what keeps the dignitaries 
And our good mayor away, unless some business them contraries." 
He puts his long white mantle on and forth the prior sallies — 
(His pious thoughts were bent upon good deeds and not on 

malice) : 
Heavens ! how the banquet lights they shone about the mayor's 

palace! 
About the hall the scullions ran with meats both fresh How the 

and potted; SS?SI "* 

The pages came with cup and can, all for the guests J" 1 ™* Wm « 

allotted; 
Ah, how they jeered that good fat man as up the stairs he trotted ! 

He entered in the ante-rooms where sat the mayor's court in ; 
Tie found a pack of drunken grooms a-d icing and a-sporting ; 
The horrid wine and 'bacco fumes they set the prior a-snorting ! 
The prior thought he M speak about their sins before he went 

hence, 
And lustily began to shout of sin and of repentence ; 
The rogues, they kicked the prior out before he *d done a sentence ! 

And having got no portion small or buffeting and tussling, 

At last he reached the banquet-hall, where sat the mayor a-guz- 

riing, 
And, by bis side his lady tall dressed out in white sprig muslin. 
Around the table in a ring the guests were drinking 

heavy; And the 

They 'd drunk the church, and drunk the king, and mayoress' 

the army and the navy ; ZL^Sg 

In fact they 'd toasted everything. The prior said, tintta, w» 

t*r% j i» fueed to go 

" God save ye ! " to church. 



112 BALLADS. 

The mayor cried, " Bring a silver cap — ihere 's one npon the 

beaufe't; 
And, Prior, have the venison up — it 's capital rtekaufi. 
And so, Sir Priest, yon 've come to sup P And pray yon, how 's 

Saint Sophy P" 
The prior's face quite red was grown, with horror and with anger ; 
He flung the proffered goblet down — it made a hideous clangor; 
And 'gan a-preaching with a frown — he was a fierce haranguer. 

He tried the mayor and alderman — they all set up ajeering ; 
He tried the common-councilmen — they too began a-sneering ; 
He turned towards the may'ress then* and hoped to get a 

hearing. 
He knelt and seized her dinner-dress, made of the muslin snowy, 
" To church, to church, my sweet mistress ! " he cried ; " the way 

I'll show ye." 
Alas, the lady-mayoress fell back as drunk as Chloe ! 

xm. 

H rTr w* t ^^ k° m **"* ^ 880 ^ ll * e **& drunken court 

back alone. Went the good prior, his eyes with weeping dim : 

He tried the people of a meaner sort— 
They too, alas, were bent upon their sport, 
And not a single soul would follow him ! 
But all were swigging schnaps and guzzling beer. 

He found the cits, their daughters, sons, and spouses, 
Spending the live-long night in fierce carouses : 
Alas, unthinking of the danger near! 
One or two sentinels the ramparts guarded, 

The rest were sharing in the general feast : 
" God wot, our tipsy town is poorly warded ; 

Sweet Saint Sophia help us ! " cried the priest. , 

Alone he entered the cathedral gate, 

Careful he locked the mighty oaken door ; 
Within his company of monks did wait, 

A dozen poor old pious men — no more. 

Oh, but it grieved the gentle prior sore, 
To think of those lost souls, given up to drink and fate ! 



THE LEGEND OF ST. 80PHIA OF KIOFF. 



113 



Tbe mighty outer gate well barred and fast, 
The poor old friars stirred their poor old bones, 
And pattering swiftly on the damp cold stones, 

They through the solitary chancel passed. 

The chancel walls looked black and dim and vast, 
And rendered, ghost-like, melancholy tones. 

Onward the fathers sped, till coming nigh a 
Small iron gate, the which they entered quick at, 
They locked and double-locked the inner wicket 

And stood within the chapel of Sophia. 

Vain were it to describe this sainted place, 
Vain to describe that celebrated trophy, 
The venerable statue of Saint Sophy, 

Which formed its chiefest ornament and grace. 

Here the good prior, his personal griefs and sorrows 
In his extreme devotion quickly merging, 

At once began to pray with voice sonorous ; 

The other friars joined in pious chorus, 
And passed the night in singing, praying, scourging, 
In honor of Sophia, that sweet virgin. 



And shut 
himself into 
Saint 
Sophia's 
chapel with 
his brethren. 



XIV. 



Leaving thus the pious priest in 
Humble penitence and prayer, 

And the greedy cits a-feasting, 
Let us to the walls repair. 



The episode 
of8net>xoff 
and Ka- 
ttnka. 



Walking by the sentry-boxes. 

Underneath the silver moon, 
Lo ! the sentry boldly cocks his — 

Boldly cocks his musketoon. 



Sneezoff was his designation, 
Fair-haired boy, forever pitied ; 

For to take his cruel station, 
He but now Katinka quitted. 
yoi* xxix. — 8 



114 BALLADS. 



Poor in pane were both, bat rich in 
Tender lore's delicious plenties ; 

She a damsel of the kitchen, 
He a haberdasher's 'prentice. 

'Tinka, maiden tender-hearted. 

Was dissolved in tearful fits, 
On that fatal night she parted 

From her darling fair-haired Frits. 

Warm her soldier lad she wrapt in 

Comforter and muffettee ; 
Called him " general " and " captain," 

Though a simple private he. 

"On your bosom wear this plaster, 
T will defend you from the cold ; 

In your pipe smoke this canaster, 
Smuggled 't is, my love, and old. 

" All the night, my love, I '11 miss you." 
Thus she spoke ; and from the door 

Fair-haired Sneezoff made his issue, 
To return, alas, no more. 

He it is who calmly walks his 
Walk beneath the silver moon ; 

He it is who boldly cocks his 
Detonating musketoon. 

He the bland canaster puffing, 

As upon his round he paces, 
Sudden sees a ragamuffin 

Clambering swiftly up the glacis. 

" Who goes there P " exclaims the sentry ; 
" When the sun has once gone down 
No one ever makes an entry 
Into this here fortified town ! " 



THE LEGEND OF ST. SOPHIA OF KIOFF. 115 



Shouted thus the watchful Sneezoff ; 

But, ere any one replied, 
Wretched youth ! he fired his piece off 

Started, staggered, groaned, and died ! 



How the 
■en trie 
Sneezoff 

WM 8UT- 

priaedand 
elavn. 



XV. 



How the 
CoRtacks 
rushed in 
suddenly 
and took 
the citie. 



Ah, full well might the sentinel cry, "Who goes 

there?" 
But echo was frightened too much to declare. 
Who goes there P who goes there P Can any one 

swear 
To the number of sands tur Us bordt de la met, 
Or the whiskers of D'Orsay Count down to a hair P 
As well might you tell of the sands the amount, 
Or number each hair in each curl of the Count, 
As ever proclaim the number and name 
Of the hundreds and thousands that up the wall came ! 
Down, down the knaves poured with fire and with sword : 
There were thieves from the Danube and rogues from or the Coa- 

theDon; aacktroopa. 

There were Turks and Wallacks, and shouting Cossacks ; 
Of all nations and regions, and tongues and religions — 
Jew, Christian, Idolater, Frank, Mussulman : 
Ah, horrible sight was Kioff that night ! 
The gates were all taken — no chance e'en of flight ; 
And with torch and with axe the bloody Cossacks 
Went hither and thither a-hunting in packs : 
They slashed and they slew both Christian and Jew — 
Women and children, they slaughtered them too. 
Some, saving their throats, plunged into the moats, 
Or the river — but oh, they had burned all the boats ! 



And of their 
manner of 
burning, 
murdering 
and ravish- 
ing. 



But here let us pause — for I can't pursue further 
This scene of rack, ravishment, ruin, and murther. 
Too well did the cunning old Cossack succeed ! 
His plan of attack was successful indeed ! 
The night was his own — the town it was gone ; 
T was a heap still a-burning of timber and stone. 



How they 
burned the 
whole citie 
down, save 
the church. 



116 



BALLADS. 



Whereof the 
belli 
to ring. 



One building alone bad escaped from the fires, 
Saint Sophy's fair church, with its steeples and spires, 

Calm, stately, and white, 

It stood in the light ; 
And as if 't would defy all the conqueror's power, — 

As if nought had occurred, 

Might clearly be heard 
The chimes ringing soberly every half-hour ! 



How the 
Ooasack 
chief bade 
them burn 
the church 
too. 



How they 
etormed it 
and of Hya- 
cinth, hla 



XVI. 

The city was defunct — silenoe succeeded 

Unto its last fierce agonizing yell ; 
And then it was the conqueror first heeded 

The sound of these calm bells. 
Furious towards his aides-de-camp he turns, 

And (speaking as if Byron's works he knew) 
" Villains ! " he fiercely cries, " the city burns, 

Why not the temple too P 
Burn me yon church, and murder all within ! " 

The Cossacks thundered at the outer door; 
And Father Hyacinth, who heard the din, 
(And thought himself and brethren in distress, 
Deserted by their lady patroness) 

Did to her statue turn, and thus his woes outpour. 



HU prayer 
to the Saint 
Sophia. 



XVII. 

" And is it thus, O falsest of the saints, 

Thou nearest our complaints P 
Tell me, did ever my attachment falter 

To serve thy altar P 
Was not thy name, ere ever I did sleep, 

The last upon my lip P 
Was not thy name the very first that broke 

From me when I awoke P 
Have I not tried with fasting, flogging, penance, 

And mortified countenance 



THE LEGEND OF ST. SOPHIA OF KIOFF. 117 

For to find favor, Sophy, in thy sight P 

And lo ! this night. 
Forgetful of my prayers, and thine own promise, 

Thou tamest from us ; 
Lettest the heathen enter in our city, 

And, without pity, 
Murder our burghers, seize upon their spouses, 

Burn down their houses ! 
Is such a breach of faith to be endured ? 

See what a lurid 
Light from the insolent invader's torches 

8hines on your porches ! 
E'en now, with thundering battering-ram and hammer 

And hideous clamor ; 
With axemen, swordsmen, pikemen, billmen, bowmen, 

The conquering foemen, 
O Sophy, beat your gate about your ears, 

Alas ! and here *s 
A humble company of pious men, 

Like muttons in a pen, 
Whose souls shall quickly from their bodies be throated, 

Because in you they trusted. 
Do you not know the Calmuc chiefs desires — 

Kill all the fbiabs! 
And you, of all the saints most false and fickle, 

Leave us in this abominable pickle." 

" Rash Htacihthtjs ! " ^ ^^ 

(Here, to the astonishment of all her backers, raddenite 

Saint Sophy, opening wide her wooden jaws, •!*•» » 
Like to a pair of German walnut-crackers, 

Began), " I did not think you had been thus, — 

monk of little faith ! Is it because 

A rascal scum of filthy Cossack heathen 

Besiege our town, that you distrust in me, then ? 

Think'st thou that I, who in a former day 

Did walk across the Sea of Marmora 

(Not mentioning, for shortness, other seas), — 

That I, who skimmed the broad Borysthenes, 



118 BALLADS. 

Without so much as wetting of ray toes, 
Am frightened at a set of men like tkosef 
I have a mind to leave you to your fate : 
Such cowardice as this my scorn inspires." 

But is inter- Saint Sophy was here 
rupted by n . /' , , 

the break- Cut short in her words, — 

(S^ck* 16 ^ or a * this ver 7 moment in tumbled the gate, 

And with a wild cheer, 

And a clashing of swords, 

Swift through the church porches, 

With a waving of torches, 

And a shriek ancT a yell 

Like the devils of hell, 

With pike and with axe 

In rushed the Cossacks, — 
In rushed the Cossacks, crying, " Murder the friars ! " 

ctath^his Ah ! what a thriU felt Hvacmth » 

outrageous When he heard that villanous shout Calmuc ! 

address ; Now ^ fo^fo he> my t^ beginneth ; 

Saints, give me courage and pluck ! 
" Courage, boys, 't is useless to funk ! " 

Thus unto the friars he began : 
" Never let it be said that a monk 

Is not likewise a gentleman. 
Though the patron saint of the church, 

Spite of all that we *ve done and we 've pray*d, 
Leaves us wickedly here in the lurch, 

Hang it gentlemen, who 's afraid ! " 

And prepa- As thus the gallant Hyacinthus spoke, 
ration for yT .., ° . " , , 

dying. He, with an air as easy and as free as 

If the quick-coming murder were a joke, 

Folded his robes around his sides, and took 

Place under sainted Sophy's legs of oak, 

Like Caesar at the statue of Fompeius. 

The monks no leisure had about to look 

(Each being absorbed in his particular case), 

Else had they seen with what celestial grace 

A wooden smile stole o'er the saint* s mahogany face. 



THE LEGEND OP ST. SOPHIA OF KIOFP. 119 

" Well done, well done, Hyacinthus, my son ! " Satot 8*. 

Thus spoke the sainted statue. speech. 

" Though you doubted me in the hour of need, 
And spoke of me very rode indeed, 
Yon deserve good luck for showing such pluck, 

And I won't be angry at you." 

The monks by-standing, one and all, ?be gets on 

^- ., . i 1111 **» Prior's 

Of this wondrous scene beholders, shoulder 

To this kind promise listened content, beck.^ 

And could n't contain their astonishment, 
When Saint Sophia moved and went 
Down from her wooden pedestal, 
And twisted her legs, sure as eggs is eggs, 
Round Hyacinthus's shoulders ! 

"Hoi forwards," cried Sophy, "there's no time And bids 
, .*. him run. 

for waiting, 

The Cossacks are breaking the very last gate in : 

See the glare of their torches shines red through the grating ; 

We 've still the back door, and two minutes or more. 
Now boys, now or never, we must make for the river, 

For we only are safe on the opposite shore. 
Run swiftly to-day, lads, if ever you ran, — 
Put out your best leg, Hyacinthus, my man ; 
And I '11 lay five to two that you carry us through, 

Only scamper as mat as you can." 

xviii. 

Away went the priest through the little back door, H t n ran " 
And light on his shoulders the image he bore : 

The honest old priest was not punished the least, 
Though the image was eight feet, and he measured four. 
Away went the prior, and the monks at his tail 
Went snorting, and puffing, and panting full sail; 

And just as the last at the back door had passed, 
In furious hunt behold at the front 
The Tartars so fierce, with their terrible cheers ; 
With axes, and halberts, and muskets, and spears, 



120 BALLADS. 

With torches a-flaming the chapel now came in. 

They tore up the mass-book, they stamped on the psalter, 

They polled the gold crucifix down from the altar ; 

The vestments they burned with their blasphemous fires, 

And many cried, " Curse on them ! where are the friars ? " 

When loaded with plunder, yet seeking for more, 

One chanced to fling open the little back door, 

Spied out the friars' white robes and long shadows 

In the moon, scampering over the meadows, 

And stopped the Cossacks in the midst of their arsons, 

And the ^ crying out lustily, " There go the parsons ! " 

Tartan With a whoop and a yell, and a scream and a shout, 

At once the whole murderous body turned out ; 
And swift as the hawk pounces down on the pigeon, 
Pursued the poor short-winded men of religion. 

g£w the When the sound of that cheering came to the monks' 
sweated. hearing, 

O Heaven ! how the poor fellows panted and blew ! 
At fighting not cunning, unaccustomed to running, 

When the Tartars came up, what the deuce should they do P 
" They 'U make us all martyrs, those bloodthirsty Tartars ! " 

Quoth fat Father Peter to fat Father Hugh. 
The shouts they came clearer, the foe they drew nearer; 
Ob, how the bolts whistled, and how the lights shone I 
M I cannot get further, this running is murther ; 

Come carry me, some one ! " cried big Father John. 
And even the statue grew frightened, " Od rat you !" 

It cried, u Mr. Prior, I wish you 'd get on ! * 
On tugged the good friar, but nigher and nigher 
Appeared the fierce Russians, with sword and with fire. 
On tugged the good prior at Saint Sophy's desire, — 
A scramble through bramble, through mud, and through mire, 
The swift arrows' whizziness causing a dizziness, 
And the Nigh done his business, fit to expire, 
gunners Father Hyacinth tugged, and the monks they tugged 

into their after : 

tayU * The foemen pursued with a horrible laughter, 

And hurl'd their long spears round the poor brethren's ears, 



THE LEGEND OP ST. SOPHIA OF KIOFF. 121 

So true, that next day in the coats of each priest, 
Though never a wound was given, there were found 
A dozen arrows at least 
Now the chase seemed at its worst, P ow » «* toe 

l&8t gSSp 

Prior and monks were fit to burst ; 
Scarce you knew the which was first, 

Or pursuers or pursued ; 
When the statue, by Heaven's grace, 
Suddenly did change the lace 
Of this interesting race, 

As a saint, sure, only could. 

For as the jockey who at Epsom rides, 
When that his steed is spent and punished sore, 

Diggeth his heels into the courser's sides, 
And thereby makes him run one or two furlongs more ; 
Even thus, betwixt the eighth rib and the ninth, 

The saint rebuked the prior, that weary creeper ; 
Fresh strength into his limbs her kicks imparted, 
One bound he made, as gay as when he started. ™* &**» 
Yes, with his brethren clinging at hb cloak, jumped into 

The statue on his shoulders — fit to choke — n^£. hene * 
One most tremendous bound made Hyacinth, 

And soused friars, statue, and all, slapdash into the Dnieper ! 

XIX. 

And when the Russians, in a fiery rank, r^lSJ." 1 * 

Panting and fierce, drew up along the shore ; saw 
(For here the vain pursuing they forbore 
Nor cared they to surpass the river's bank), 
Then, looking from the rocks and rushes dank, 

A sight they witnessed never seen before, The statue 

And which, with its accompaniments glorious, Sfnthh5 ya 

Is writ i' the golden book, or liber aureus. *»*£. and 
Plump in the Dnieper flounced the friar and with the 

friends — Hyacinth 

They dangling round his neck, he fit to choke. »*» <*<**- 
When suddenly his most miraculous cloak 
Over the billowy waves itself extends, 



122 BALLADS. 

Down from his shoulders quietly descends 

The venerable Sophy's statue of oak ; 
Which sitting down upon the cloak so ample, 
Bids all the brethren follow its example ! 

How in this Each at her bidding sat, and sat at ease ; 

manner of __ t J , ° ' . * 

boat they The statue gan a gracious conversation, 

sayledaway. And ( waving to the foe a salutation) 

Sail'd with her wondering happy proteges 
Gayly adown the wide Borysthenes, 

Until they came unto some friendly nation. 
And when the heathen had at length grown shy of 
Their conquest, she one day came back again to Kioff. 

xx. 

Finte, orthe THINK NOT, READER, THAT Wl 'BE LATJGH1HG 

end. 

AT YOU; 

You MAT QO TO Kiorr NOW, and sex the status I 



TITMARSH'S CARMEN LILLIENSE. 



Lilue, Sept 2, 184S. 
My heart is weary, my peace is gone. 

How shall I e'er my woes reveal t 
I hare no money, I lie in pawn, 

A stranger in the town of Lille. 



With twenty pounds bat three weeks since 
From Paris forth did Titmarsh wheel, 

I thought myself as rich a prince 
As beggar poor I'm now at Lille. 

Confiding in my ample means — 

In troth, I was a happy chiel ! 
I passed the gates of Valenciennes, 

I never thought to come by Lille. 

I never thought my twenty pounds 
Some rascal knave would dare to steal ; 

I gayly passed the Belgic bounds 
At Quilvrain, twenty miles from Lille. 

To Antwerp town I hasten'd post, 
And as I took my evening meal 
I felt my pouch, — my purse was lost, 

Heaven ! Why came I not by Lille ? 

I straightway called for ink and pen, 

To grandmamma I made appeal ; 
Meanwhile a ban of guineas ten 

1 borrowed from a friend so leal. 



124 BALLADS. 

I got the cash from grandmamma 
(Her gentle heart my woes could feel), 

But where I went, and what I saw, 
What matters P Here I am at Lille. 

My heart is weary, my peace is gone, 
How shall I e'er my woes reveal P 

I have no cash, I lie in pawn, 
A stranger in the town of Lille. 

n. 

To stealing lean never come, 
To pawn my watch I 'm too genteel. 

Besides, I left my watch at home, 
How could I pawn it then at Lille P 

" La note*' at times the guests will say. 

I turn as white as cold broil'd veal ; 
I turn and look another way, 

/dare not ask the bill at Lille. 

I dare not to the landlord say, 
" Good sir, I cannot pay your bill ; " 

He thinks I am a Lord Anglais, 
And is quite proud I stay at Lille. 

He thinks I am a Lord Anglais, 
Like Rothschild or Sir Robert Feel, 

And so he serves me every day 
The best of meat and drink in Lille. 

Yet when he looks me in the face 
1 blush as red as cochineal ; 

And think did he but know my case, 
How changed he 'd be, my host of Lille. 

My heart is weary, my peace is gone, 
How shall I e'er my woes reveal I 

I have no money, I lie in pawn, 
A stranger in the town of Lille. 



TTTMARSH'S CARMEN LILLIENSE. 126 

m. 

The sun bants oat in furious blue, 

I perspirate from head to heel ; 
I 'd like to hire a one-horse chaise, 

How can I, without cash at Lille P 

I pass in sunshine burning hot 

By cafes where in beer they deal ; 
I think how pleasant were a pot, 

A frothing pot of beer of Lille ! 

What is yon house with walls so thick, 
All girt around with guard and grille P 

gracious gods ! it makes me sick, 
It is the prison-house of Lille ! 

cursed prison strong and barred, 
It does my very blood congeal ! 

1 tremble as I pass the guard, 
And quit that ugly part of Lille. 

The church-door beggar whines and prays, 

I tarn away at his appeal : 
Ah, church-door beggar ! go thy ways ! 

You 're not the poorest man in Lille. 

My heart is weary, my peace is gone, 

How shall I e'er my woes reveal P 
I have no money, I lie in pawn, 

A stranger in the town of Lille. 



8ay, shall I to yon Flemish church, 
And at a Popish altar kneel P 

Oh, do not leave me in the lurch, — 
I '11 cry, ye patron-saints of Lille ! 

Te virgins dressed in satin hoops, 
Ye martyrs slain for mortal weal, 

Look kindly down ! before you stoops 
The miserablest man in Lille* 



126 BALLADS. 

And lo ! as I beheld with awe 
A pictured saint (I swear 't is real), 

It smiled, and turned to grandmamma ! — 
It did! and I had hope in Lille ! 

'T was five o'clock, and I could eat, 
Although 1 could not pay my meal : 

I hasten back into the street 
Where lies my inn, the best in Lille. 

What see I on my table stand, — 

A letter with a well-known seal P 
'T is grandmamma's ! I know her hand, — 

"To Mr. M. A. Titmarsh, Lille." 

I feel a choking in my throat, 
I pant and stagger, faint and reel ! 

It is — it is — a ten-pound note, 
And I'm no more in pawn at Lille ! 

[He goes off by the diligence that evening, and to restored to the bosom of 
his happy family.] 



THE WILLOW-TREE. 

Know ye the willow-tree 

Whose gray leaves quiver, 
Whispering gloomily 

To yon pale river; 
Lady, at even-tide 

Wander not near it, 
They say its branches hide 

A sad, lost spirit P 

Once to the willow-tree 
A maid came fearful, 

Pale seemed her cheek to be, 
Her blue eye tearful ; 



TITMABSH'S CARMEN LILUENSE. 127 

Soon as she saw the tree, 

Her step moved fleeter, 
No one was there — ah me ! 

No one to meet her ! 

Quick beat her heart to hear 

The far bell's chime 
Toll from the chapel-tower 

The trysting time : 
Bat the red sun went down 

In golden flame, 
And though she looked round, 

Yet no one came ! 

Presently came the night, 

Sadly to greet her, — 
Moon in her silver light, 

Stars in their glitter ; 
Then sank the moon away 

Under the billow, 
Still wept the maid alone — 

There by the willow ! 

Through the long darkness, 

By the stream rolling, 
Hour after hour went on 

Tolling and tolling. 
Long was the darkness, 

Lonely and stilly ; 
Shrill came the night-wind, 

Piercing and chilly. 

Shrill blew the morning breeze, 

Biting and cold, 
Bleak peers the gray dawn 

Over the wold. 
Bleak over moor and stream 

Looks the gray dawn, 
Gray, with dishevelled hair, 
Still stands the willow there — 

The maid is gone ! 



128 BALLADS. 

Domine, Domine ! 

Sing we a litany, — 
Sing for poor maiden-kearU broken 

and weary ; 
Domine, Domine ! 

Sing we a litany, 
Wail we and weep we a wild 

Miter ere! 



THE WILLOW-TREE. 

ANOTHER VERSION. 



Long by the willow-trees 
Vainly they sought her, 

Wild rang the mother's screams 
O'er the gray water : 

" Where is my lovely one P 
Where is my daughter? 



" Rouse thee, sir constable — 
Rouse thee and look ; 

Fisherman, bring your net, 
Boatman your hook. 

Beat in the lily-beds, 
Dive in the brook ! " 

m. 

Vainly the constable 
8houted and called her ; 

Vainly the fisherman 
Beat the green alder, 

Vainly he flung the net, 
Never it hauled her 1 



TTTMARSH'S CABMEN LILUENSK 129 



IV. 

Mother beside the fire 
Sat, her nightcap in ; 

Father, in eaaj chair, 
Gloomily napping, 

When at the window-sill 
Came a light tapping ! 



And a pale countenance 

Looked through the casement 
Loud beat the mother's heart, 

8ick with amazement, 
And at the vision which 

Came to surprise her, 
Shrieked in an agony — 

"Lorlit'sElizar!" 

VI. 

Yes, 'twas Elizabeth — 

Yes, 't was their girl ; 
Pale was her cheek, and her 

Hair out of curl. 
" Mother ! " the loving one, 

Blushing, exclaimed, 
u Let not your innocent 

Lizzy be blamed. 

vn. 

" Yesterday, going to Aunt 

Jones's to tea, 
Mother, dear mother, I 

Forgot the door-key ! 
And as the night was cold, 

And the way steep, 
Mrs. Jones kept me to 

Breakfast and sleep." 
vol. xxix.— 9 



130 BALLAD& , 



vra. 

Whether her Pa and Ma 

Fully believed her, 
That we shall never know, 

Stern they received her ; 
And for the work of that 

Cruel, though short, night, 
Sent her to bed without 

Tea for a fortnight. 

IX. 

moral. 

Hey diddle diddlety. 

Cat and the Fiddlety, 
Maidens of England take caution by ike ! 

Let love and suicide 

Never tempt you aside, 
And always remember to take the door-key. 



LYRA HIBERNICA. 

THE POEMS OF THE MOLONT OF KILBALLY MOLONY. 



THE PIMLICO PAVILION. 

Ye pathrons of janius, Minerva and Vanius, 
Who ait on Parnassus, that mountain of snow, 

Descind from your station and make observation 
Of the Prince's pavilion in sweet Pimlico. 

This garden, by jakurs, is forty poor acres 
(The garner he toold me, and sure ought to know) ; 

And yet greatly bigger, in size and in figure, 
Than the Phanix itself, seems the Park Pimlico. 

*t is there that the spoort is, when the Queen and the Court is 

Walking magnanimous all of a row, 
Forgetful what state is among the pataties 

And the pine-apple gardens of sweet Pimlico 

There in blossoms odorous the birds sing a chorus, 
Of " God save the Queen" as they hop to and fro; 

And you sit on the binches and hark to the finches, 
Singing melodious in sweet Pimlico. 

There shuiting their phanthasies, they pluck polyanthuses 

That round in the gardens resplindently grow, 
Wid roses and jessimins, and other sweet specimins, 

Would charm bould Linnayus in sweet Pimlico. 



132 BALLADS. 

You see when you inther, and stand in the cinther, 
Where the roses, and necturns, and collyflowers blow, 

A. hill so tremindous, it tops the top-windows 
Of the elegant houses of famed Pimlioo. 

And when you 've ascinded that precipice splindirf 
You see on its summit a wondtherful show — 

A lovely 8wish building, all painting and gilding, 
The famous Pavilion of sweet Pimlioo. 

Prince Albert, of Flandthers, that Prince of Commandthers, 
(On whom my best blessings hereby I bestow), 

With goold and vermilion has decked that Pavilion, 
Where the Queen may take tay in her sweet Pimlioo. 

There 's lines from John Milton the chamber all gilt on, 
And pictures beneath them that's shaped like a bow ; 

I was greatly astounded to think that that Roundhead 
Should find an admission to famed Pimlioo. 

lovely 's each fresco, and most picturesque ; 
And while round the chamber astonished I go, 

1 think Dan Maclise's it baits all the pieces 
8urrounding the cottage of famed Pimlioo. 

Bastlake has the chimney (a good one to limn he), 
And a vargin he paints with a sarpent below ; 

While bulls, pigs, and panthers, and other enchanthers, 
Are painted by Landseer in sweet Pimlioo. 

And nature smiles opposite, Stanfield he copies it ; 

O'er Claude or Poussang sure 't is he that may crow : 
But Sir Ross's best faiture is small mini-ature — 

He shouldn't paint frescoes in famed Pimlico. 

There 's Leslie and Uwins has rather small doings ; 

There 's Dyce, as brave masther as England can show ; 
And the flowers and the sthrawberries, sure he no dauber is, 

That painted the panels of famed Pimlioo. 



LYRA HTBERNICA. 133 

In the pictures from Walther Scott, never a fault there 's got, 
Sure the marble 'a as natural as thrne Scaglio ; 

And the Chamber Pompayen is sweet to take tay in, 
And ait buttherM muffins in sweet Pimlioo. 

There 's landscapes by Gruner, both solar and lunar, 
Them two little Doyles too, deserre a braro ; 

Wid de piece by young Townsend (for janius abounds in 't) ; 
And that 's why he 's shuited to paint Pimlioo. 

That picture of Severn's is worthy of rever'nce, 

But some I won't mintion is rather so so ; 
For sweet philoso'pby, or crumpets and coffee, 

O where 's a Pavilion like sweet Pimlico ? 

to praise this Pavilion would puzzle Quintilian, 
Daymosthenes, Brougham, or young Cicero ; 

80 heavenly Goddess, d' ye pardon my modesty, 
And silence, my lyre ! about sweet Pimlico. 



THE CRY8TAL PALACE. 

With ganial foire 
Thransfuse me loyre, 

Ye sacred nympths of Pindus, 
The whoile I sing 
That wondthrous thing, 

The Palace made o' windows ! 

Say, Paxton, truth, 

Thou wondthrous youth, 
What sthroke of art celistial, 

What power was lint 

You to invint 
This combineetion criatial. 



L 



134 BALLADS. 

would before 

That Thomas Moore, 
Likewoise the late Lord Boyron, 

Thim aigles sthrong 

Of godlike song, 
Cast oi on that cast oiron ! 

And saw thim walls, 

And glittering halls, 
Thim rising slendther columns, 

Which I pore pote 

Could not denote, 
No, not in twinty vollums. 

My Muse's words 

Is like the bird's 
That roosts beneath the panes there ; 

Her wing she spoils 

'Gainst them bright toiles, 
And cracks her silly brains there. 

This Palace tall, 

This Cristial Hall, 
Which Imperors might covet, 

Stands in High Park 

Like Noah's Ark, 
A rainbow bint above it. 

The towers and fanes, 

In other scaynes, 
The fame of this will undo. 

Saint Paul'3 big doom, 

SaintrtPaythcr's Boom, 
And Dublin's proud Rotundo. 

T is here that roams, 

As well becomes 
Her dignitee and stations, 

Victoria Great, 

And houlds in state 
The Congress of the Nations. 



LYRA HIBBRNICA. 136 

Her subjects pours 

From distant shores, 
Her Injians and Canajians ; 

And also we, 

Her kingdoms three, 
Attind with our allagianoe. 

Here come likewise 

Her bould allies, 
Both Asian and Europian ; 

From East and West 

They send their best 
To fill her Coornucopean. 

I seen (thank Grace ! ) 

This wondthrous place 
(His Noble Honor Misther 

H. Cole it was 

That gave the pass, 
And let me sec what is there). 

"With conscious proide 

I stud insoide 
And look'd the World's Great Fair in, 

Until me sight 

Was dazzled quite, 
And could n't see for staring. 

There *s holy saints 

And window paints, 
By Maydiayval Pugin ; 

Alhamborough Jones 

Did paint the tones 
Of yellow and gambouge in* 

There 's fountains there 

And crosses fair ; 
There's water-gods with urrns: 

There 's organs three, 

To play, d' ye see P 
" God save the Queen," by turrns. 



136 BALLADS. 

There 's Statues bright 

Of marble white, 
Of silver, and of copper ; 
• And some in zinc, 

And some, I think, 
That is n't over proper. 

There 's stajm Ingynes, 

That stands in lines, 
Enormous and amazing. 

That squeal and snort 

Like whales in sport, 
Or elephants a-graang. 

There 's carts and gigs, 

And pins for pigs, 
There 's dibblers and there 's harrows, 

And ploughs like toys 

For little boys, 
And ilegant wheelbarrows. 

For thim genteels 

Who ride on wheels, 
There 's plenty to indulge 'em : 

There 's Droskys snug 

From Paytersbug, 
And yaybycles from Bulgium. 

There 's Cabs on Stands 

And Shandthry danns ; 
There's Waggons from New York here; 

There 's Lapland Sleighs 

Have cross'd the seas, 
And Jaunting Cyars from Cork here. 

Amazed I pass 

From glass to glass, 
Deloighted I survey 'em ; 

Fresh wondtbers grows 

Before me nose 
In this sublime Musayum ! 



LYRA H1BERNICA. 137 

Look, here 's a fan 

From far Japan, 
A sabre from Damasoo : 

There's shawls je get 

Prom far Thibet, 
And cotton prints from Glasgow. 

There 's German Antes, 

Marocky boots, 
And Naples Macaronies ; 

Bohaymia 

Has sent Bohay, 
Folonia her polonies. 

There 's granite flints 

That 's quite imminse, 
There 's sacks of coals and fuels, 

There 's swords and guns, 

And soap in tuns, 
And Gingerbread and Jewels. 

There 's taypots there, 

And cannons rare; 
There 's coffins fill'd with roses ; 

There 's canvas tints, 

Teeth insthrumints, 
And shuits of clothes by Moses. 

There 's laahins more 

Of things in store, 
Bnt thim I don't remimber ; 

Nor could disclose 

Did I compose 
From May time to Novimber ! 

Ah, Judy thru ! 

With eyes so blue, 
That yon were here to view it 

And I could screw 

But tu pound tu, 
'Tis I would thrait you to it ! 



138 BALLADS. 

So let us raise 
Victoria's praise, 

And Albert's proud condition, 
That takes his ayse 
As he surveys 

This cristial Exhibition. 

1851. 



MOLONY'S LAMENT 

Tim, did yon hear of thim Saxons, 
And read what the peepers report ? 

They 're goan to reeal the Liftinant, 

And shut up the Castle and Coort ! 
Out desolate oounthry of Oireland, 

They're bint, the blagyards, to desthroy, 
And now having murdthered our counthry, 

They 're goin to kill the Viceroy 
Dear boy ; 

'T was he was our proide and our joy ! 

And will we no longer behould him, 
Surrounding his carriage in throngs, 

As he weaves his cocked-hat from the windies, 
And smiles to his bould aid-de-congs ? 

1 liked for to see the young haroes, 

All shoining with sthripes and with stars, 
A horsing about in the Phaynix, 
And winking the girls in the cyan, 

Like Mars, 
A smokin' their poipes and cigyars. 

Dear Mitchell exoiled to Bermudies, 

Tour beautiful oilids you '11 ope, 
And there '11 be an abondance of croyin' 

Prom O'Brine at the Keep of Good Hope, 



LYRA HIBERNICA. 139 

When they read of this news in the peepers, 

Across the Atlantical wave, 
That the last of the Oirish Liftinints 

Of the Oisland of Seents has tuck lave, 
God save 

The Queen — she should betther behave. 

And what 's to become of poor Dame Sthreet, 

And who '11 ait the puffs and the tarts, 
Whin the Coort of imparial splindor 

From Doblin's sad city departs ? 
And who '11 have the fiddlers and pipers, 

When the deuce of a Coort there remains P 
And where '11 be the bucks and the ladies, 

To hire the Coort-shuits and the thrains P 
In sthrains, 

It 's thus that ould Erin complains ! 

There's Counsellor Flanagan's leedy 

'Twas she in the Coort did n't fail, 
And she wanted a plinty of popplin, 

For her dthress, and her flounce, and her tail ; 
She bought it of Misthress O'Grady, 

Eight shillings a yard tabinet, 
But now that the Coort is concluded, 

The diwle a yard will she get ; 
I bet, 

Bedad, that she wears the old set. 

There *s Surgeon O'Toole and Miss Leary, 

They 'd day lings at Madam O'Rlggs' ; 
Each year at the dthrawing-room sayson, 

They mounted the neatest of wigs. 
When Spring, with its buds and its dasies, 

Comes out in her beauty and bloom, 
Thim tu '11 never think of new jasies, 

Becase there is no dthrawing-room, 
For whom 

They 'd choose the expense to ashume. 



140 BALLADS. 

There *s Alderman Toad and his lady, 

'T was they gave the Clart and the Poort, 
And the pome-apples, turbots, and lobsters, 

To feast the Lord Liftuiint's Coort. 
But now that the quality 's goin, 

I warnt that the aiting will stop, 
And you '11 get at the Alderman's teeble 

The devil a bite or a dthrop, 
Or chop ; 

And the batcher may shut up his shop. 

Yes, the grooms and the ushers are goin, 

And his Lordship, the dear honest man, 
And the Duchess, his eemiable leedy, 

And Corry, the bould Connellan, 
And little Lord Hyde and the childthren, 

And the Chewter and Governess tu ; 
And the servants are packing their boxes, — 

Oh, murther, but what shall I due 
Without you P 

Meery, with ois of the blue I 



MR. MOLONY'S ACCOUNT OP THE BALL 

GIVEN TO TH1 NBPATJLESB AMBASSADOR BT THB FBNIX8ULAB 
AND ORIENTAL COMPANY. 

will ye choose to hear the news, 
Bedad I cannot pass it o'er : 

1 '11 tell you all about the Ball 

To the Naypaulase Ambassador. 
Begor! this f$te all balls does bate 

At which I 've worn a pump, and I 
Must here relate the splendthor great 

Of th' Oriental Company. 



LYRA HIBERNICA. 141 

These men of sinse dispensed expinse, 

To f&te these black Achilleses. 
14 We 'U show the blacks," says they, « Almack's, 

And take the rooms at Willis's." 
With flags and shawls, for these Nepauls, 

They hung the rooms of Willis up, 
And decked the walls, and stairs, and halls, 

With roses and with lilies up, 

And Jullien's band it tuck its stand, 

So sweetly in the middle there, 
And soft bassoons played heavenly chunes, 

And violins did fiddle there. 
And when the Coort was tired of spoort, 

I 'd lave you, boys, to think there was 
A nate buffet before them set, 

Where lashins of good dhrink there was. 

At ten before the ball-room door, 

His moighty Excellency was, 
He smoiled and bowed to all the crowd, 

So gorgeous and immense he was. 
His dusky shuit, sublime and mute, 

Into the door-way followed him ; 
And O the noise of the blackguard boys, 

As they hurrood and hollowed him ! 

The noble Chair * stud at the stair, 

And bade the dthrums to thump ; and he 
Did thus evince, to that Black Prince, 

The welcome of his Company. 
fair the girls, and rich the curls, 

And bright the oys you saw there, was ; 
And fixed each oye, ye there could spoi, 

On Gineral Jung Bahawther, was ! 

1 James llatheson, Esq., to whom, and the Board of Director! of the Penin- 
sular and Oriental Company, I, Timotheus Molony, late stoker on board the 
*' Iberia,'* the "Lady Mary Wood," the "Tagus," and the Oriental steam- 
ships, humbly dedicate this production of my grateful muse. 



142 BALLADS. 

This Gineral great then tuck his sate 

With all the other ginerals, 
(Bedad his troat, his belt, his coat, 

All bleezed with precious minerals) ; 
And as he there, with princely air, 

Recloinin on his cushion was, 
All round about his royal chair 

The squeezin and the pushin was. 

Pat, such girls, such Jukes, and Earls, 

Such fashion and nobilitee ! 
Just think of Tim, and fancy him 

Amidst the hoigh gentilitee ! 
There was Lord De L'Huys, and the Portygeese 

Ministher and his lady there, 
And I reckonized, with much surprise, 

Our messmate, Bob O'Grady, there ; 

There was Baroness Brunow, that looked like Juno, 

And Baroness Rehausen there, 
And Countess Roullier, that looked peculiar 

Well, in her robes of gauze in there. 
There was Lord Crowhurst (I knew him first, 

When only Mr. Pips he was), 
And Mick O'Toole, the great big fool, 

That after supper tipsy was. 

There was Lord Fingall, and his ladies all, 

And Lords Killeen and Dufferin, 
And Paddy Fife, with his fat wife : 

I wondther how he could stuff her in. 
There was Lord Belfast, that by me past, 

And seemed to ask how should I go there P 
And the Widow Macrae, and Lord A. Hay, 

And the Marchioness of 81igo there. 

Yes, Jukes, and Earls, and diamonds, and pearls, 
And pretty girls, was sporting there ; 

And some beside (the rogues !) I spied, 
Behind the windies, coorting there. 



LYRA HIBERNICA. 143 

O there 's one I know, bedad would show 

As beautiful as any there, 
And I 'd like to hear the pipers blow, 

And shake a fat with Fanny there ! 



THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK. 

Ye Genii of the nation, 

Who look with veneration. 
And Ireland's desolation onsaysingly deplore ; 

Ye sons of General Jackson, 

Who thraraple on the Saxon 
Attend to the thransaction upon Shannon shore. 

When William, Duke of Schumbug, 

A tyrant and a humbug, 
With cannon and with thunder on our city bore, 

Our fortitude and valliance 

Inathructed his battalions 
To respict the galliant Irish upon 8hannon shore. 

Since that capitulation. 

No city in this nation 
So grand a reputation coulcf boast before, 

As Limerick prodigious, 

That stands with quays and bridges, 
And the ships up to the windies of the Shannon shore. 

A chief of ancient line, 

T is William Smith O'Brine 
Reprisints this darling Limerick, this ten years or more : 

O the Saxons can't endure 

To see him on the flure, 
And thrimble at the Cicero from Shannon shore ! 



144 BALLADS. 

This valliant son of Mars 

Had been to visit Par's, 
That land of Revolution, that grows the tricolor ; 

And to welcome his returrn 

From pilgrimages furren, 
We invited him to tay on the Shannon shore. 

Then we summoned to our board 

Young Meagher of the sword : 
'T is he will sheathe that battle-axe in Saxon gore 

And Mitchil of Belfast 

We bade to our repast, 
To dthrink a dish of coffee on the Shannon shore. 

Convaniently to hould 

These patriots so bould, 
We tuck the opportunity of Tim Doolan's store; 

And with ornamints and banners 

(As becomes gintale good manners) 
We made the loveliest tay-room upon Shannon shore. 

'T would binifit your sowls, 

To see the butthered rowls, 
The sugar-tongs and sangwidges and craim galyore, 

And the muffins and the crumpets, 

And the band of hearts and thrumpets, 
To celebrate the sworry upon Shannon shore. 

Sure the Imperor of Bohay 

Would be proud to dthrink the tay 
That Misthress Biddy Booney for O'Brine did pour; 

And, since the days of Strongbow, 

There never was such Congo — 
Mitchil dthrank six quarts of it — by Shannon shore. 

But Clarndon and Corry 

Connellan beheld this sworry 
With rage and imulation in their black hearts' core ; 

And they hired a gang of ruffina 

To interrupt the muffins, 
And the fragrance of the Congo on the Shannon shore. 



LYRA HIBERNICA. 145 

When full of tay and cake, 

O'Brine began to spake ; 
Bat juice a one could hear him, for a sudden roar 

Of a ragamuffin rout 

Began to yell and shout, 
And frighten the propriety of Shannon shore. 

As Smith O'Brine harangued. 

They batthered and they banged : 
Tim Doolan's doors and windies down they tore ; 

They smashed the lovely windies 

(Hung with muslin from the Indies), 
Furshuing of their shindies upon Shannon shore. 

With throwing of brickbats, 

Drowned puppies and dead rats, 
These ruffin democrats themselves did lower ; * 

Tin kettles, rotten eggs, 

Cabbage-stalks, and wooden legs, 
They flung among the patriots of Shannon shore. 

the girls began to scrame 

And upset the milk and crame ; 
And the honorable gintlemin, they cursed and swore : 

And Mitchil of Belfast, 

T was he that looked aghast, 
When they roasted him in effigy by Shannon shore. 

O the lovely tay was spilt 

On that day of Ireland's guilt ; 
Says Jack Mitchil, " I am kilt ! Boys, where 's the back door ? 

T is a national disgrace : 

Let me go and veil me (ace ; " 
And he boulted with quick pace from the Shannon shore. 

" Cut down the bloody horde ! " 

Says Meagher of the sword, 
" This conduct would disgrace any blackamore ; 

But the best use Tommy made 

Of his famous battle blade 
Was to cut his own stick from the Shannon shore. 
vol. xxix. — 10 



146 BALLADS. 

Immortal Smith O'Brine 

Was raging like a line ; 
T would have done your sowl good to hare heard him roar ; 

In his glory he arose, 

And he rushed upon his foes, 
But they hit him on the nose by the Shannon shore. 

Then the Futt and the Dthragoons 

In squadthrons and platoons, 
With their music playing chunes, down upon us bore ; 

And they bate the rattatoo, 

But the Peelers came in view, 
And ended the shaloo on the Shannon shore. 



LARRY O'TOOLE. 

You 've all heard of Larry O'Toole, 
Of the beautiful town of Drumgoole ; 

He bad but one eye, 

To ogle ye by — 
Oh, murther, but that was a jewH ! 

A fool 
He made of de girls, dis O'Toole. 

'T was he was the boy did n't fail, 

That tuck down pataties and mail ; 
He never would shrink 
From any stbrong dthrink, 

Was it whiskey or Drogheda ale ; 
I'm bail 

This Larry would swallow a pail. 

Oh, many a night at the bowl, 
With Larry I 've sot cheek by jowl ; 

He 's gone to his rest, 

Where there's dthrink of the best, 
And so let us give his old sowl 

A howl, 
For 't was he made the noggin to rowl. 



LYRA HIBERNICA. 147 

THE ROSE OP FLORA. 

Bent by a Young Gentleman of Quality to Mies Br— dy of Cattle Brady. 

Ok Brady's tower there grows a flower, 
It is the loveliest flower that blows, — 

At Castle Brady there lives a lady, 
(And how I love her no one knows) ; 

Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora 
Presents her with this blooming rose. 

"O Lady Nora," says the goddess Flora, 
•' I 've many a rich and bright parterre ; 

In Brady's towers there 's seven more flowers, 
But you 're the fairest lady there : 

Not all the county, nor Ireland's bounty, 
Can projuice a treasure that 's half so fair ! " 

What cheek is redder ? sure roses fed her ! 

Her hair is maregolds, and her eye of blew. 
Beneath her eyelid, is like the vi'let, 

That darkly glistens with gentle jew ! 
The lily's nature is not surely whiter 

Than Nora's neck is, — and her arrums too. 

" Come, gentle Nora," says the goddess Flora, 
"My dearest creature, take my advice, 

There is a poet, full well you know it, 
Who spends his lifetime in heavy sighs, — 

Young Redmond Barry, 't is him you '11 marry, 
If rhyme and raison you 'd choose likewise." 



148 BALLADS. 



THE LAST IRISH GRIEVANCE. 

Oh reading of the general Indignation occasioned in Ireland by the appoint- 
ment of a Scotch Professor to one of Her M ajiwty's godless Colleges, ICasTcm 
Mollot Moloky, brother of Thaddbds Molont, Esq., of the Temple, a youth 
only fifteen years of age, dashed off the following spirited lines :— 

As I think of the insult that 's done to this nation, 

Red tears of rivinge from me fatures I wash, 
And uphold in this pome, to the world's daytistation, 

The sleeves that appointed Professor M'Cosh. 

I look round me counthree, renowned by exparience 
And see midst her childthren, the witty, the wise, — 

Whole hayps of logicians, potes, schollars, grammarians, 
All ayger for pleeces, all panting to rise ; 

I gaze round the world in its utmost diminsion ; 

Lard Jahn and his minions in Council I ask, 
Was there ever a Government-pleece (with a pinsion) 

But children of Erin were fit for that task ? 

What, Erin beloved, is thy fetal condition P 
What shame in aych boosom must rankle and burrun, 

To think that our countree has ne'er a logician 
In the hour of her deenger will surrey her turrun ! 

On the logic of Saxons there *s little reliance 

And, rather from Saxons than gather its rules, 
I 'd stamp under feet the base book of his science, 

And spit on his chair as he taught in the schools ! 

false Sir John Kane ! is it thus that you praych me P 

I think all your Queen's Unirersitees Bosh ; 
And if you 've no neetive Professor to taych me, 

I scawurn to be learned by the Saxon M'Cosh. 

There 's Wiseman and Chumb, and His Grace the Lord Primate, 
That sinds round the box, and the world will subscribe ; 

'T is they '11 build a College that 's fit for our climate, 
And taych me the saycrets I burn to imboibe ! 



LYRA HIBERNICA. 149 

T is there as a Student of Science I '11 enther, 
Fair Fountain of Knowledge, of Joy, and Contint ! 

Saint Pathrick's sweet Statue shall stand in the centher, 
And wink his dear oi every day during Lint. 

And good Doctor Newman, that praycher unwary, 

'T is he shall preside the Academee School, 
And quit the gay robe of St. Philip of Neri, 

To wield the soft rod of St. Lawbsnce OToole I 



THE BALLADS OP POLICEMAN X. 



THE WOFLE NEW BALLAD OP JANE RONEY 
AND MARY BROWN. 

An igatrawnary tail I Till tell 700 this veek — 
I stood in the Court of A'Beckett the Beak, 
Vere Mrs. Jane Roney, a vidow, I see, 
Who charged Mary Brown with a robbin of she. 

This Mary was pore and in misery once, 

And she came to Mrs. Roney it 's more than twelve monce. 

She ad n't got no bed, nor no dinner nor no tea, 

And kind Mrs. Roney gave Mary all three. 

Mrs. Roney kep Mary forever so many veeks 
(Her conduct disgusted the best of all Beax), 
She kep her for nothink, as kind as could be, 
Never thinkin that this Mary was a traitor to she. 

" Mrs. Roney, O Mrs. Roney, I feel very ill ; 
Will you just step to the Doctor's for to fetch me a pill P " 
"That I will, my pore Mary," Mrs. Roney says she ; 
And she goes off to the Doctor's as quickly as may be. 

No sooner on this message Mrs. Roney was sped, 
Than hup gits vicked Mary, and jumps out a bed ; 
She hopens all the trunks without never a key — 
She bustes all the boxes, and vith them makes free. 

Mrs. Roney's best linning, gownds, petticoats, and close, 
Her children's little coats and things, her boots, and her hose, 
She packed them, and she stole 'em, and avay vith them did flee 
Mrs. Roney's situation — you may think vat it vould be ! 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 151 

Of Mary, ungrateful, who had served her this vay, 
Mrs. Roney beard nothink for a long year and a day. 
Till last Thursday, in Lambeth, yen whom should she see 
Bat this Mary, as had acted so ungrateful to sbe P 

She was leaning on the helbo of a worthy young man, 
They were going to be married, and were walkin hand in hand ; 
And the Church bells was a ringing for Mary and he, 
And the parson was ready, and a waitin for his fee. 

When up comes Mrs. Roney, and faces Mary Brown, 
Who trembles, and castes her eyes upon the ground. 
She calls a jolly pleaseman, it happens to be me ; 
I charge this young woman, Mr. Pleaseman, says she. 

" Mrs. Roney, o, Mrs. Roney, o, do let me go, 

I acted most ungrateful I own, and I know, 

But the marriage bell is a ringin, and the ring you may see, 

And this young man is a waitin," says Mary says she. 

" I don't care three fardens for the parson and clark, 
And the bell may keep ringin from noon day to dark. 
Mary Brown, Mary Brown, you must come along with me ; 
And I think this young man is lucky to be free." 

So, in spite of the tears which bejewM Mary's cheek, 
I took that young gurl to A'Beckett the Beak ; 
That extent Justice demanded her plea— 
But never a sullable said Mary said she. 

On account of her conduck so base and so vile, 
That wicked young gurl is committed for trile, 
And if she 's transpawted beyond the salt sea, 
It's a proper reward for such willians as she. 

Now you young gurls of Southwark for Mary who veep, 
From piclrin and stealin your ands you must keep, 
Or it may be my dooty, as it was Thursday reek, 
To pull you all hup to A'Beckett the Beak. 



152 BALLADS. 



THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAITS. 

Mr name is Pleaceman X ; 

Last night I was in bed, 
A dream did me perplex, 

Which came into my Edd. 
I dreamed I sor three Waits 

A playing of their tune, 
At Pimlico Palace gates, 

All underneath the moon. 
One puffed a hold French horn, 

And one a hold Banjo, 
And one chap seedy and torn 

A Hirish pipe did blow. 
They sadly piped and played, 

Dexcribing of their fates ; 
And this was what they said, 

Those three pore Christmas Waits. 

" When this black year began, 

This Eighteen-forty-eight, 
I was a great great man, 

And king both vise and great, 
And Munseer Guizot by me did show 

As Minister of State. 

" But Febuwerry came, 

And brought a rabble rout 
And me and my good dame 

And children did turn out, 
And us, in spite of all our right, 

Sent to the right about 

" I left my native ground, 

I left my kin and kith, 
I left my royal crownd, 

Vich I could n't travel vith, 
And without a pound came to English ground, 

In the name of Mr. 8mith. 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 163 

" Like any anchorite 

I 've lived since I came here, 
I 'ye kep myself quite quite, 

I 've drank the small small beer, 
And the vater, yon see, disagrees vith me, 

And all my femly dear. 

" Tweelerie8 so dear, 

darling Pally Royl, 
Vas it to finish here 

That I did trouble and toyl ? 
That all my plans should break in my ands, 

And should on me recoil P 

" My state I fenced about 

Vith baynicks and vith guns ; 
My gals I portioned hout, 

Rich vives I got my sons ; 

var n't it crule to lose my rule, 
My money and lands at once F 

" And so, vith arp and woice, 
Both troubled and shagreened, 

1 bid you to rejoice, 

glorious England's Queend ! 

And never have to veep, like pore Louis-Phileep, 
Because you out are cleaned. 

" O Prins, so brave and stout, 

1 stand before your gate ; 
Pray send a trifle hout 

To me, your pore old Vait ; 
For nothink could be vuss than it 9 s been along vith us 
In this year Forty-eight." 

" Ven this bad year began," 

The nex man said, saysee, 
" I vas a Journeyman, 

A taylor black and free, 
And my wife went out and chaired about, 

And my name 's the bold Coffee. 



154 BALLADa 

" The Queen and Halbert both 
I swore I would confound, 

I took a hawfle hoath 
To drag them to the ground; 

And sevral more with me they swore 
Aginst the British Crownd. 

•' Aginst her Pleacemen all 
We said we 'd try our strenth ; 

Her scarlick soldiers tall 
We vow'd we 'd lay f all lenth : 

And out we came, in Freedom's name. 
Last Aypril was the tenth. 

"Three 'undred thousand snobs 
Came out to stop the vay, 

Yith sticks vith iron knobs. 
Or else we 'd gained the day. 

The harmy quite kept out of sight, 
And so ye rent avay. • 

" Next day the Pleacemen came — 
Rewenge it was their plann — 

And from my good old dame 
They took her tailor-mann : 

And the hard hard beak did me bespeak 
To Newgit in the Wann. 

" In that etrocious Cort 

The Jewry did agree ; 
The Judge did me transport, 

To go beyond the sea : 
And so for life, from his dear wife 

They took poor old Cuffee. 

" O Halbert, Appy Prince ! 

With children round your knees, 
Ingraving ansum Prints, 

And taking hoff your hease ; 
O think of me, the old Cuffee, 

Beyond the solt solt seas I 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 155 

" Although I 'm hold and black, 

My hanguish is most great ; 
Great Prince, O call me back, 

And I rill be your Vait ! 
And never no more vill break the Lor, 

As I did in 'Forty-eight" 

The tailer thus did close 

(A pore /Id blacky more rogue), 
When j. dismal gent uprose, 

And spoke with Hirish brogue : 
" I 'm Smith O'Brine, of Royal Line, 

Descended from Rory Ogue. 

" When great O'Connle died, 

That man whom all did trust, 
That man whom Henglish pride 

Beheld with such disgust, 
Then Erin free fixed eyes on me, 

And swoar I should be fust. 

" ' The glorious Hirish Crown/ 

Says she, ' it shall be thine : 
Long time, it 's wery well known, 

You kep it in your line ; 
That diadem of hemerald gem 

Is yours, my Smith O'Brine. 

" « Too long the Saxon churl 

Our land encumbered hath ; 
Arise my Prince, my Earl, 

And brush them from thy path : 
Rise, mighty Smith, and sveep 'em vith 

The besom of your wrath.* 

" Then in my might I rose, 

My country I surveyed, 
I saw it filled with foes, 

I viewed them undismayed ; 
*Ha, ha!* says I, 'the harvest's high, 

I '11 reap it with my blade/ 



156 BALLADS, 

" My warriors I enrolled, 
They rallied round their lord ; 

And clieafs in council old 
I summoned to the board — 

Wise Doheny and Daffy bold, 
And Meagher of the Sword. 

" I stood on Slievenamaun, 
They came with pikes and bills ; 

They gathered in the dawn, 
Like mist upon the hills. 

And rushed adown the mountain side 
Like twenty thousand rills. 

"Their fortress we assail ; 

Hurroo ! my boys, hurroo ! 
The bloody Saxons quail 

To hear the wild Shaloo : 
Strike, and prevail, proud Innesfail, 

O'Brine aboo, aboo ! 

" Our people they defied ; 

They shot at 'em like savages, 
Their bloody guns they plied 

With sanguinary ravages : 
Hide, blushing Glory, hide 

That day among the cabbages ! 

" And so no more I 'II say, 
But ask your Mussy great, 

And humbly sing and pray, 
Your Majesty's poor Wait : 

Your Smith O'Brine in 'Forty-nine 
Will blush for 'Forty-eight." 



THE BALLADS OP POLICEMAN X. 157 

LINES ON A LATE HOSPICIOUS EWENT. 1 

BT A GENTLEMAN OP THE FOOT-GUARDS (BLUE). 

I paced upon my beat 

With steady step and slow, 
All happandownd of Ranelagh Street ; 

Ban'lagh St. Piralico. 

While marching buppandownd 

Upon that fair May morn, 
Beold the booming cannings sound, 

A royal child is born ! 

The Ministers of State 

Then presnly I sor, 
They gallops to the Pallia gate, 

In carridges and for. 

With anxious looks intent, 

Before the gate they stop, 
There comes the good Lord President, 

And there the Archbishopp. 

Lord John he next elights ; 

And who comes here in haste P 
'T is the ero of one underd fights, 

The caudle for to taste. 

Then Mrs. Lily, the nuss, 

Towards them steps with joy ; 
Says the brave old Duke, " Gome tell to us, 

Is it a gal or a boy P " 

Says Mrs. L. to the Duke, 

" Your Grace, it is a'prince" 
And at that miss's bold rebuke, 

He did both laugh and wince. 

* The Birth of Prince Arthur. 



158 BALLADS. 

He vews with pleasant look 
This pooty flower of May, 

Then, says the wenerable Duke, 
"Egad it's my buthday" 

By memory backwards borne, 
Feraps his thoughts did stray 

To that old place where he was born 
Upon the first of May. 

Perhaps he did recal 
The ancient towers of Trim ; 

And County Meath and Dangan Hall 
They did rewisit him. 

I phansy of him so 

His good old thoughts employin' ; 
fourscore years and one ago 

Beside the flowin' Boyne. 

His father praps he sees, 
Most Musicle of Lords, 

A playing maddrigles and glees 
Upon the Arpsicords. 

Jest phansy this old Ero 
Upon his mother's knee ! 

Did ever lady in this land 
Ave greater sons than she F 

And I shoudn be surprize 
While this was in his mind, 

If a drop there twinkled in his eyes 
Of unfamiliar blind. 



To Hapsly Ouse next day 
Drives up a Broosh and for, 

A gracious prince sits in that Shay 
(I mention him with Hor !)• 



J 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 109 

They ring upon the bell, 

The Porter shows his Ed, 
(He fought at Vaterloo as yell, 

And years a Veskit red). 

To see that carriage come, 

The people round it press : 
" And is the galliant Duke at ome ? " 

•' Your Royal Ighness, yes." 

He stepps from out the Broosh 

And in the gate is gone ; 
And X, although the people push, 

8ays wery kind, " Move hon." 

The Royal Prince unto 

The galliant Duke did say, 
" Dear Duke, my little son and yen 

Was born the self same day. 

"The Lady of the land, 

My wife and Sovring dear, 
It is by her horgust command 

I wait upon yon here. 

"That lady is as well 

As can expected be ; 
And to your Grace she bid me tell 

This gracious message free. 

"That offspring of our race, 

Whom yesterday you see, 
To show our honor for your Once, 

Prince Arthur he shall be. 

" That name it rhymes to fame; 

All Europe knows the sound : 
And I could n't find a better name 

If you'd give me twenty pound. 



160 BALLADS. 

" King Arthur had his knights 
That girt his table round, 

But you have won a hundred fights, 
Will match 'em I '11 be bound. 

" Tou fought with Bonypart, 
And likewise Tippoo Saib ; 

I name you then with all my heart 
The Godsire of this babe." 

That Prince his leave was took, 
His hinterview was done ; 

So let us give the good old Duke 
Good luck of his god-son, 

And wish him years of joy 
In this our time of Schism, 

And hope he '11 hear the royal boy 
His little catechism. 

And my pooty little Prince 
That 's come our arts to cheer, 

Let me my loyal powers ewinoe 
A welcomin of you ere* 

And the Poit-Laureat's crownd, 
I think, in some respex, 

Egstremely sbootable might be found 
For honest Pleaseman X. 



THE BALLAD OP ELIZA DAVIS. 

Galliant gents and lovely ladies, 

List a tail vich late befel, 
Yich I heard it, bein on duty, 

At the Pleace Hoffice, Clerkenwell. 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 161 

Praps you know the Fondling Chapel, 

Vere the little children sings 
(Lor ! I likes to hear on Sundies 

Them there pooty little things ! ) 

In this street there Kved a housemaid, 
If yon particklarly ask me where — 

Vy, it vas at four-and-tventy 
Guilford Street, by Brunsvick Square. 

Vich her name was Eliza Dans, 

And she went to fetch the beer : 
In the street she met a party 

As was quite surprized to see her. 

Vich he Tas a British Sailor, 

For to judge him by his look: 
Tarry jacket, canvass trowsies, 

Ha-la Mr. T. P. Cooke. 

Presently this Mann accostes 

Of this hinnocent young gal — 
"Pray," saysee, "excuse my freedom, 

You 're so like my Sister Sal 1 

" You're so like my Sister Sally, 

Both in Talk and face and size, 
Miss, that — dang my old lee scuppers, 

It brings tears into my heyes ! 

" I'm a mate on board a wessel, 

I 'm a sailor bold and true ; 
Shiver up my poor old timbers, 

Let me be a mate for you ! 

" What 's your name, my beauty, tell me ; " 

And she faintly hansers, " Lore, 
Sir, my name 's Eliza Davis, 

And I live at tventy-four.'* 
vol. xxix. — 11 



162 BALLADS. 

Hoftimes came tbis British seaman, 
This deluded gal to meet ; 

And at tventy-four was welcome, 
Tventy-four in Guilford Street. 

And Eliza told her Master 
(Kinder they than Missuses are), 

How in marridge he had ast her, 
Like a galliant Brittish Tar. 

And he brought his landlady vith him, 
(Vich vas all his hartful plan), 

And she told how Charley Thompson 
Reely vas a good young man. 

And how she herself had lived in 
Many years of union sweet, 

Yith a gent she met promiskous, 
Valkin in the public street. 

And Eliza listened to them, 

And she thought that soon their bands 
Vould be published at the Fondlin, 

Hand the clergymen jine their ands. 

And he ast about the lodgers 
(Vich her master let some rooms), 

Likevise rere they kep their things, and 
Vere her master kep his spoons. 

Hand this Ticked Charley Thompson 
Came on Sundy veek to see her; 

And he sent Eliza Davis 
Hout to fetch a pint of beer. 

Hand while pore Eliza vent to 
Fetch the beer, dewoid of sin, 

This etrocious Charley Thompson 
Let his wile accomplish hin. 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 163 

To tbe lodgers, their apartments, 

This abandingd female goes, ' 
Prigs their shirts and umberellas ; 

Prigs their boots, and hats, and clothes. 

Vile the scoundrel Charley Thompson, 

Lest his wictim should escape, 
Hocust her vith rum and vater, 

Like a fiend in huming shape. 

But a hi was fixt upon 'em 

Yich these raskles little sore ; 
Namely, Mr. Hide, the landlord 

Of the house at tventy-four. 

He yas valkin in his garden, 

Just afore he vent to sup ; 
And on looking up he sor the 

Lodgers' Tinders lighted hup. 

Hup the stairs the landlord tumbled; 

"Something 's going wrong," he said; 
And he caught the vicked woman 

Underneath the lodgers' bed. 

And he called a brother Pleaseman, 

Yich vas passing on his beat ; 
Like a true and galliant feller, 

Hup and down in Guilford Street. 

And that Pleaseman able-bodied 

Took this Toman to the cell ; 
To the cell vere she was quodded, 

In the Close of Clerkenwell. 

And though vicked Charley Thompson 

Boulted like a miscrant base, 
Presently another Pleaseman 

Took him to the self-same place. 



164 BALLADS. 

And this precious pair of raskles 
Tuesday last came up for doom ; 

By the beak they was committed, 
Yich his name was Mr. Combe. 

Has for poor Eliza Davis, 
Simple gurl of tventy-four, 

She, I ope, vill never listen 
In the streets to sailors moar. 

But if she most ave a sweet-art 
(Vich most every gurl expex), 

Let her take a jolly pleaseman; 
Yich his name peraps is — X. 



DAMAGES, TWO HUNDBED POUNDS. 

Special Jurymen of England ! who admire your country's laws, 
And proclaim a British Jury worthy of the realm's applause ; 
Gayly compliment each other at the issue of a cause 
Which was tried at Guilford 'sizes, this day week as ever was* 

Unto that august tribunal comes a gentleman in grief 
(Special was the British Jury, and the Judge, the Baron Chief), 
Comes a British man and husband — asking of the law relief, 
For his wife was stolen from him — he 'd have vengeance on the 
thief. 

Yes, his wife, the blessed treasure with the which his life was 

crowned, 
Wickedly was ravished from him by a hypocrite profound. 
And he comes before twelve Britons, men for sense and troth 

renowned, 
To award him for his damage, twenty hundred sterling pound. 

He by counsel and attorney there at Guilford does appear, 
Asking damage of the villain who seduced his lady dear : 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 165 

But I can't help asking, though the lady's guilt was all too clear, 
And though guilty the defendant, wasn't the plaintiff rather 
queer P 

First the lady's mother spoke, and said she 'd seen her daughter 

cry 
But a fortnight after marriage : early times for piping eye. 
Six months after, things were worse, and the piping eye was 

black, 
And this gallant British husband caned his wife upon the back. 

Three months after they were married, husband pushed her to 

the door, 
Told her to be off and leave him, for he wanted her no more. 
As she would not go, why he went: thrice he left his lady dear ; 
Left her, too, without a penny, for more than a quarter of a year. 

Mrs. Frances Duncan knew the parties very well indeed, 
She had seen him pull his lady's nose and make her lip to bleed ; 
If he chanced to sit at home not a single word he said : 
Once she saw him throw the cover of a dish at his lady's head. 

Sarah Green, another witness, clear did to the jury note 
How she saw this honest fellow seize his lady by the throat, 
How he cursed her and abused her, beating her into a fit, 
Till the pitying next-door neighbors crossed the wall and wit- 
nessed it. 

Next door to this injured Briton Mr. Owers a butcher dwelt ; 
Mrs. Ower's foolish heart towards this erring dame did melt 
{Not that she had erred as yet, crime was not developed in her), 
But being left without a penny, Mrs. Owers supplied her din- 
ner — 
God be merciful to Mrs. Owers, who was merciful to this sinner ! 

Caroline Naylor was their servant, said they led a wretched life, 
Saw this most distinguished Briton fling a teacup at his wife ; 
He went out to balls and pleasures, and never once, in ten 

months' space, 
Sat with his wife or spoke her kindly. This was the defendant's 



166 BALLADS. 

Pollock, C. B., charged the Jury ; said the woman's guilt wis 

clear: 
That was not the point, however, which the Jury came to hear; 
Bat the damage to determine which, as it should true appear, 
This most tender-hearted husband, who so used his lady dear — 

Beat her, kicked her, caned her, cursed her, left her starring, 

year by year, 
Flung her from him, parted from her, wrung her neck, and 

boxed her ear — 
What the reasonable damage this afflicted man could claim, 
By the loss of the affections of this guilty graceless dame P 

Then the honest British Twelve, to each other turning round, 
Laid their clever heads together with a wisdom most profound : 
And towards his Lordship looking, spoke the foreman wise and 

sound ; — 
" My Lord, we find for this here plaintiff, damages two hundred 

pound." 

So, God bless the Special Jury ! pride and joy of English ground, 
And the happy land of England, where true justice does abound ! 
British jurymen and husbands, let us hail this verdict proper : 
If a British wife offends you, Britons, yon 've a right to whop her. 

Though you promised to protect her, though yon promised to 

defend her, 
You are welcome to neglect her: to the devil you may send her: 
Yon may strike her, curse, abuse her; so declares our law 

renowned; 
And if after this yon lose her, — why, you 're paid two hundred 

pound. 



THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY. 

Thbri 'a in the Vest a city pleasant 
To vich King Bladud gev his name, 

And in that city there 's a Cresent 
Vere dwelt a noble knight of fame* 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 167 

Although that galliant knight is oldish, 

Although Sir John as gray, gray air, 
Hage has not made his busum coldish, 

His Art still beats tewodds the Fair ! 

'T was two years sins, this knight so splendid, 

Peraps fateagued with Bath's routines, 
To Paris towne his phootsteps bended 

In sutch of gayer folks and seans. 

His and was free, his means was easy, 

A nobler, finer gent than he 
Ne'er drove about the Shons-Eleesy, 

Or paced the Boo de Bivolee* 

A brougham and pair Sir John prowided, 

In which abroad he loved to ride ; 
But ar ! he most of all enjyed it, 

When some one helse was sittin' inside ! 

That " some one helse " a lovely dame was, 

Dear ladies, you will heasy tell — 
Countess Grabrowski her sweet name was, 

A noble title, ard to spell 

This faymus Countess ad a daughter 

Of lovely form and tender art ; 
A nobleman in marridge sought her, 

By name the Baron of Saint Bart. 

Their pashn touched the noble Sir John, 

It was so pewer and profound ; 
Lady Grabrowski he did urge on 

With Hyming's wreeth their loves to crownd. 

" O, come to Bath, to Lansdowne Crescent," 
Says kind Sir John, " and live with me ; 

The living there 's uncommon pleasant — 
I 'm sure you 11 find the hair agree. 



168 BALLADS. 

"O, come to Bath, my fair Grabrowski, 
And bring jour charming girl," sezee ; 

" The Barring here shall have the ouse-key, 
Vith breakfast, dinner, lunch, and tea. 

" And when they 've passed an appy winter, 
Their opes and loves no more we '11 bar ; 

The marridge-TOW they 'U enter inter, 
And I at church will be their Par." 

To Bath they went to Lansdowne Crescent, 
Where good Sir John he did provide 

No end of teas and balls incessant, 
And hoases both to drive and ride. 

He was so Ospitably busy, 

When Miss was late, he 'd make so bold 
Upstairs to call out, " Missy, Missy, 

Come down, the coffy 's getting cold ! " 

But O ! 't is sadd to think such bounties 
Should meet with such return as this, 

O Barring of Saint Bart, O Countess 
Grabrowski, and O cruel Miss ! 

He married you at Bath's fair Habby, 
Saint Bart he treated like a son — 

And was n't it uncommon shabby 
To do what you have went and done t 

My trembling And amost refewses 
To write the charge which Sir John swore, 

Of which the Countess he ecuses, 
Her daughter and her son-in-lore. 

My Mews quite blushes as she sings of 
The fatle charge which now I quote ; 

He says Miss took his two best rings off, 
And pawned 'em for a tenpun note. 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 169 

"Is this the child of honest parinoe, 

To make away with folks' best things P 
Is this, pray, like the wives of Barrins, 

To go and prig a gentleman's rings P M 

Thus thought Sir John, by anger wrought on, 

And to rewenge his injured cause, 
He brought them hup to Mr. Broughton, 

Last Vensday veek as ever waws. 

If guiltless, how she have been slandered ! 

If guilty, wengeance will not fail : 
Meanwhile the lady is remanded 

And gev three hundred pouns in bail. 



JACOB HOMNIUM'S HOSS. 

A NEW FALLICE COURT CHANT. 

One sees in Viteall Yard, 
Vere pleacemen do resort, 

A wenerable hinstitute, 
T is call'd the Pallis Court. 

A gent as got his i on it, 
I think 't will make some sport. 

The natur of this Court 

My hindignation riles : 
A few fat legal spiders 

Here set & spin their viles ; 
To rob the town theyr privlege is, 

In a hayrea of twelve miles. 

The Judge of this year Court 

Is a mellitary beak, 
He knows no more of Lor 

Than praps he does of Greek, 
And prowides hisself a deputy 

Because he cannot speak. 



170 BALLADS. 

Four counsel in this Court — 
Misnamed of Justice — sits ; 

These lawyers owes their places to 
Their money, not their wits ; 

And there 's six attornies under them, 
As here their living gits. 

These lawyers, six and four, 
Was a livin at their ease, 

A sending of their writs abowt, 
And droring in the fees, 

When their erose a cirkimstance 
As is like to make a breeze. 

It now is some monce since, 
A gent both good and trew 

Possest an ansum oss yith vich 
He didn know what to do : 

Peraps he did not like the oss, 
Peraps he was a sera. 

This gentleman his oss 
At Tattersall's did lodge ; 

There came a wulgar oss-dealer, 
This gentleman's name did fodge, 

And took the oss from Tattersall's : 
Wasn that a artful dodge ? 

One day this gentleman's groom 

This willain did spy out, 
A mounted on this oss 

A ridin him about ; 
" Get out of that there oss, you rogue," 

Speaks up the groom so stout 

The thief was cruel whex'd 
To find himself so pinn'd ; 

The oss began to whinny, 
The honest groom he grinn'd ; 

And the raskle thief got off the oss 
And cut avay like vind 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 171 

And phansy with what joy 

The roaster did regard 
His dearly bluvd lost oss again 

Trot in the stable yard ! 

Who was this master good 

Of whomb I makes these rhymes ? 
His name is Jacob Homnium, Exquire ; 

And if I'd committed crimes, 
Good Lord ! I would n't ave that mann 

Attack me in the " Times " ! 

Now shortly after the groomb 

His master's oss did take up, 
There came a livery-man 

This gentleman to wake up ; 
And he handed in a little bill, 

Which hangered Mr. Jacob. 

For two pound seventeen 

This livery-man eplied, 
For the keep of Mr. Jacob's oss, 

Which the thief had took to ride. 
" Do you see anything green in me P n 

Mr. Jacob Homnium cried. 

"Because a raskle chews 

My oss away to robb, 
And goes tick at your Mews 

For seven-and-fifty bobb, 
Shall I be call' d to pay ? — It is 

A iniquitious Jobb." 

Thus Mr Jacob cut 

The conwasation short; 
The livery-man went ome, 

Detummingd to ave sport, 
And summingsd Jacob Homnium, Exquire, 

Into the Pallia Court. 



172 BALLADS. 

Pore Jacob went to Court, 

A Counsel for to fix, 
And choose a barrister out of the four, 

An attorney of the six : 
And there he sor these men of lore, 

And watch'd 'em at their tricks. 

The dreadful day of trile 
In the Pallia Court did come ; 

The lawyers said their say, 
The Judge look'd wery glum, 

And then the British Jury cast 
Pore Jacob Hom-ni-um. 

a weary day was that 
For Jacob to go through ; 

The debt was two seventeen 
(Which he no mor owed than you), 

And then there was the plaintives costs, 
Eleven pound six and two. 

And then there was his own, 
Which the lawyers they did fix 

At the wery moderit figgar 
Of ten pound one and six. 

Now Evins bless the Pallia Court, 
And all its bold ver-dicks ! 

1 cannot settingly tell 

If Jacob swaw and cost, 
At aving for to pay this sumb ; 

But I should think he must, 
And ay drawn a check for j£24 4». 84, 

With most igstreme disgust. 

Pallis Court, you move 
My pitty most profound. 

A most emusing sport 
You thought it, I '11 be bound, 

To saddle hup a three-pound debt, 
With two-and-twenty pound. 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 173 

Good sport it is to you 

To grind the honest pore, 
To pay their just or unjust debts 

With eight hundred per cent, for Lor ; 
Make haste and get your costes in, 

They will not last much mor ! 

Come down from that tribewn, 

Thou shameless and Unjust ; 
Thou Swindle, picking pockets in 

The name of Truth august : 
Come down, thou hoary Blasphemy, 

For die thou shalt and must. 

And go it, Jacob Homnium, 

And ply your iron pen, 
And rise up, Sir John Jenris, 

And shut me up that den ; 
That sty for fattening lawyers in, 

On the bones of honest men. 

Pleaceman X. 



THE SPECULATORS. 

Thb night was stormy and dark, The town was shut up in 
sleep : Only those were abroad who were out on a lark, Or those 
who 'd no beds to keep. 

I pass'd through the lonely street. The wind did sing and 
blow; I could hear the policeman's feet Clapping to and fro. 

There stood a potato-man In the midst of all the wet ; He 
stood with his 'tato-can In the lonely Haymarket. 

Two gents of dismal mien, And dank and greasy rags, Came 
out of a shop for gin, Swaggering over the flags. 



174 BALLADS. 

8waggering orer the stones, These shabby bucks did walk ; 
And I went and followed those seedy ones, And listened to 
their talk. 

Was I sober or awake P Could I believe my ears P Those 
dismal beggars spake Of nothing but railroad shares. 

I wondered more and more ; Says one — " Good friend of 
mine, How many shares have you wrote for, In the Diddle- 
sex Junction lineP" 

" I wrote for twenty," says Jim, " But they would n't give 
me one ; " His comrade straight rebuked him For the folly 
he had done : 

" O Jim, you are unawares Of the ways of this bad town ; 
I always write for five hundred shares, And then they put me 
down." 

" And yet you got no shares," Says Jim, " for all your boast ; " 
" I would have wrote," says Jack, " but where Was the penny 
to pay the post P " 

"I lost, for T could n't pay That first instalment up ; But 
here 's 'taters smoking hot — I say, Let 's stop, my boy, and 
sup-" 

And at this simple feast The while they did regale, I drew 
each ragged capitalist Down on my left thumb-nail. 

Their talk did me perplex, All night I tumbled and tost, 
And thought of railroad specs, And how money was won and 
lost. 

" Bless railroads everywhere," I said, " and the world's ad- 
vance ; Bless every railroad share In Italy, Ireland, France ; 
For never a beggar need now despair, And every rogue has a 
chance." 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 175 

A WOFUL NEW BALLAD 

OP THE PROTESTANT CONSPIRACY TO TAKE THE POPE'S LIPB. 
BT A GENTLEMAN WHO HAS BEEN ON THE SPOT. 

Come all ye Christian people, unto my tale give ear, 

'T is about a base consperracy, as quickly shall appear ; 

'T will make your hair to bristle up, and your eyes to start and 

glow, 
When of this dread consperracy you honest folks shall know. 

The news of this consperracy and yillianous attempt, 

I read it in a newspaper, from Italy it was sent : 

It was sent from lovely Italy, where the olives they do grow, 

And our holy father lives, yes, yes, while his name it is No no. 

And 't is there our English noblemen goes that is Puseyites no 

longer, 
Because they finds the ancient faith both better is and stronger, 
And 't is there I knelt beside my lord when he kiss'd the Pope 

his toe, 
And hung his neck with chains at St. Peter's Vinculo. 

And 't is there the splendid churches is, and the fountains play- 
ing grand, 

And the palace of Prince Torlonia, likewise the Vatican ; 

And there 's the stairs where the bagpipe-men and the pif- 
fararys blow. 

And it 's there, I drove my lady and lord in the park of Pincio. 

And 't is there our splendid churches is in all their pride and 

glory, 
Saint Peter's famous Basilisk and Saint Mary's Maggiory ; 
And them benighted Prodestants, on Sunday they must go 
Outside the town to the preaching-shop by the gate of Popolo. 

Now in this town of famous Room, as I dessay you have heard, 
There is scarcely any gentleman as has n't got a beard. 



176 BALLADS. 

And ever since the world began it was ordained so* 

That there should always barbers be wheresumever beards do 

grow. 
And as it always has been so since the world it did begin. 
The Pops, our Holy Pontentate, has a beard upon his chin ; 
And every morning regular when cocks begin to crow, 
There comes a certing party to wait on Pops Pio. 

There comes a certing gintlemen with razier, soap, and lather, 
A shaving most respectfully the Pope, our Holy Father. 
And now the dread consperracy I '11 quickly to you show, 
Which them sanguinary Prodestants did form against Noko. 

Them sanguinary Prodestants, which I abore and hate, 
Assembled in the preaching-shop by the Flaminian gate ; 
And they took counsel with their selves to deal a deadly blow 
Against our gentle Father, the Holy Pops Pio. 

Exhibiting a wickedness which I never heerd or read of ; 
What do you think them Prodestants wished ? to cut the good 

Pope's head off! 
And to the kind Pope's Air-dresser the Prodestant Clark did go, 
And proposed him to decapitate the innocent Pio. 

" What hever can be easier/ 9 said this Clerk — this Man of Sin, 
" When you are called to hoperate on His Holiness's chin, 
Than just to give the razier a little slip — just so ? — 
And there 's an end, dear barber, of innocent Pio ! " 

The wicked conversation it chanced was overerd 

By an Italian lady ; she heard it every word : 

Which by birth she was a Marchioness, in service forced to go 

With the parson of the preaching-shop at the gate of Popolo. 

When the lady beard the news, as duty did obleege, 
As fast as her legs could carry her she ran to the Poleege. 
" O Polegia," says she (for they pronounts it so), 
" They 're going for to massyker our Holy Pope Pio. 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 177 

" The ebomminable Englishmen, the Parsing and his Clark, 
His Holiness's Air-dresser devised it in the dark ! 
And I would recommend yon in prison for to throw 
These villians would esassinate the Holy Popi Pio ! 

" And for saving of His Holiness and his trebble crownd 
I humbly hope your Worships will give me a few pound ; 
Because I was a Marchioness many years ago, 
Before I came to service at the gate of Popolo." 

That sackreligious Air-dresser, the Parson and his man 
Would n't, though ask'd continually, own their wicked plan — 
And so the kind Authorities let those villians go 
That was plotting of the murder of the good Pio Nono. 

Now isn't this safishnt proof, ye gentlemen at home, 

How wicked is them Prodestants, and how good our Pope at 

Borne P 
So let us drink confusion to Lord John and Lord Minto, 
And a health unto His Eminence, and good Pio Nono. 



THE LAMENTABLE BALLAD OP THE FOUNDLING 
OF SHOREDITCH. 

Cove all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail. 

It is all about a doctor was travelling by the rail, 

By the Heastern Counties' Railway (vich the shares I don't 

desire), 
From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire. 

A travelling from Bury this Doctor was employed 

With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain 

Loyd, 
And on reaching Marks Tey Station, that is next beyond Colchest- 
er, a lady entered into them most elegantly dressed. 

vol. xxix. — 12 



178 BALLADS. 

She entered into the Carriage all with a tottering step, 
And a pooty little Bayby upon her bussum slep ; 
The gentlemen received her with kindness and siwillaty, 
Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty. 

She had a fust-class ticket, this lovely lady said, 
Because it was so lonesome she took a secknd instead. 
Better to travel by secknd class, than sit alone in the fast, 
And the pooty little Baby upon her breast she nust. 

A seein of her cryin, and shiverin and pail, 

To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail; 

Saysee, " You look unwell, Ma'am, I '11 elp you if I can, 

And you may tell your case to me, for I 'm a meddiole man." 

" Thank you, Sir," the lady said, " I only look so pale, 
Because I ain't accustom'd to travelling on the Rale ; 
I shall be better presnly, when I 'ye ad some rest : " 
And that pooty little Baby she squeeged it to her breast. 

So in the oonwersation the journey they beguiled, 

Capting Loyd and the meddicle man, and the lady and the child, 

Till the warious stations along the line was passed, 

For even the Heastern Counties' trains must come in at last. 

When at Shoreditch tumminus at lenth stopped the train, 
This kind meddicle gentleman proposed his aid again. 
"Thank you, Sir," the lady said, " for your kyindness dear; 
My carridge and my osses is probibbly come here. 

" Will you old this baby, please, vilst I step and see P " 
The Doctor was a famly man : " That I will," says he. 
Then the little child she kist, kist it very gently, 
Yich was sucking his little fist, sleeping innocently. 

With a sigh from her art, as though she would have bust it, 
Then she gave the Doctor the child — wery kind he nust it : 
Hup then the lady jumped hoff the bench she sat from, 
Tumbled down the carridge steps and ran along the platform. 



THE BALLADS OP POLICEMAN X. 179 

Vile hall the other passengers rent upon their rays, 
The Capting and the Doctor sat there in a maze ; 
Some vent in a Homminibus, some Tent in a Cabby, 
The Capting and the Doctor raited vith the babby. 

There they sat looking queer, for an hour or more, 
But their feller passlnger neather on 'em sore : 
Never, never back again did that lady come 
To that pooty sleeping Hinfnt a suckin of his Thum ! 

What could this pore Doctor do, bein treated thus, 

When the darling Baby woke, cryin for its nuss ? 

Off he drove to a female. friend, vich she was both kind and mild, 

And igsplained to her the circumstance of this year little child. 

That kind lady took the child instantly in her lap, 
And made it very comfortable by giving it some pap ; 
And when she took its close off, what d' you think she found ? 
A couple of ten pun notes sewn up, in its little gownd ! 

Also in its little close, was a note which did conwey ' 
That this little baby's parents lived in a handsome way, 
And for his Headucation they reglarly would pay ; 
And sirtingly like gentlefolks would claim the child one day, 
If the Christian people who 'd charge of it would say, 
Per adwertisement in the " Times," where the baby lay. 

Pity of this bayby many people took, 

It had such pooty ways and such a pooty look ; 

And there came a lady forrard (I wish that I could see 

Any kind lady as would do as much for me ; 

And I wish with all my art, some night in my night gownd, 
I could find a note stitched for ten or twenty pound) — 
There came a lady forrard, that most honorable did say, 
She'd adopt this little baby which her parents cast away. 

While the Doctor pondered on this hoffer fair, 
Comes a letter from Devonshire, from a party there, 
Hordering the Doctor, at its Mar's desire, 
To send the little Infant back to Devonshire. 



180 BALLADS. 

Lost in apoplexity, this pore meddiclc man, 
Like a sensable gentleman, to the Justice ran ; 
Which his name was Mr. Hammill, a honorable beak, 
That takes his seat in Worship Street, four times a week. 

" O Justice ! " says the Doctor, •* instrugt me what to do. 
I 've come up from the country, to throw myself on you ; 
My patients have no doctor to tend them in their ills 
(There they are in Suffolk without their drafts and pills !). 

" I 've come up from the country, to know how I 'U dispose 
Of this pore little baby, and the twenty pun note, and the close, 
And I want to go back to Suffolk, dear Justice, if you please, 
And my patients wants their Doctor, and their Doctor wants his 
feez." 

Up spoke Mr. Hammill, sittin at his desk, 

" This year application does me much perplesk ; 

What I do adwise you, is to leave this babby 

In the Parish where it was left, by its mother shabby." 

The Doctor from his worship sadly did depart — 
He might have left the baby, but he had n't got the heart 
To go for to leave that Hinnocent, has the law allows, 
To the tender mussies of the Union House. 

Mother, who left this little one on a stranger's knee, 
Think how cruel you have been, and how good was he ! 
Think, if you've been guilty, innocent was she ; 
And do not take unkindly this little word of me : 
Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be i 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 181 



THE ORGAN-BOY'S APPEAL. 

" WflSTMiHSTBJi Police Court. —Policeman X brought a paper of doggerel 
verses to the Magistrate, which had been thrust into his hands, X said, by an 
Italian boy, who ran away immediately afterwards. 

" The Magistrate, after perusing the lines, looked hard at X, and said he 
did not think they were written by an Italian. 

" X, blushing, said he thought the paper read in Court last week, and which 
frightened so the old gentleman to whom it was addressed, was also not of 
Italian origin." 

Signor Broderip, you are a wickid ole man, 
You wexis us little horgin-boys whenever you can : 
How dare you talk of Justice, and go for to seek 
To pussicute us horgiii-boys, you senguinary Beek P 

Though you set in Vestminster surrounded by your crushers, 
Harrogint and babsolute like the Hortocrat of hall the Rushers, 
Yet there is a better vurld I *d bare you for to know, 
Likewise a place vere the henimies of horgin-boys will go. 

O you vickid Herod without any pity ! 

London vithout horgin-boys rood be a dismal city. 

Sweet Saint Cicilt who first taught horgin-pipes to blow, 

Soften the heart of this magistrit that haggerywates us so ! 

Good Italian gentlemen, fatherly and kind, 
Brings us over to London here oar horgins for to grind ; 
Sends us out viih little vite mice and guinea-pigs also 
A popping of the Veasel and a Jumpin of Jim Crow. 

And as us young horgin-boys is grateful in our turn 
We gives to these kind gentlemen hall the money we earn. 
Because that they vood vop up as wery wel we know 
Unless we brought our burnings back to them as loves us so. 

O Mr. Broderip 1 wery much I 'm surprise, 

Ven you take your valks abroad where can be your eyes P 

If a Beak had a heart then you 'd compryend 

Us pore little horgin-boys was the poor man's friend. 



182 BALLADS. 

Don't you see the shildren in the droring-rooms * 
Clapping of their little ands when they year our toons ? 
On their mothers' bussums don't yon see the babbies crow 
And down to us dear horgin-boys lots of apence throw P 

Don't you see the ousemaids (pooty Pollies and Ma&iss), 

Yen ve bring our urdigurdis, smiling from the hairies ? 

Then they come out vith a slice o' cole puddn or a bit o' bacon 

or so 
And give it us young horgin-boys for lunch afore we go. 

Have you ever seen the Hirish children sport 

When our velcome music-box brings sunshine in the Court F 

To these little paupers who can never pay 

Surely all good horgin-boys, for God's love, will play. 

Has for those proud gentlemen like a sorting B — k 
(Vich I von't be pussonal and therefore vill not speak). 
That flings their parler-vinders hup Yen ve begin to play 
And ousses us and swears at us in such a wiolent way, 

Instedd of their abewsing and calling hout Poleece 
Let em send out John to us vith sixpence or a shillin apiece. 
Then like good young horgin-boys avay from there we 11 go, 
Blessing sweet Saint Cicilt that taught our pipes to blow. 



LITTLE BILLEE. 1 

AIR — "II 7 avait nn petit navire." 

There were three sailors of Bristol city 
Who took a boat and went to sea. 
But first with beef and captain's biscuits 
And pickled pork they loaded she. 

1 Aa different versions of this popular song have been set to music and snug, 
no apology is needed for the insertion in these pages of what is considered to 
be the correct version. 



THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X. 183 

There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy. 
And the youngest he was little Billee. 
Now when they got as far as the Equator 
They 'd nothing left but one split pea. 

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, 
" I am extremely hungaree." 
To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, 
* We 'ye nothing left, us must eat we." 

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, 
" With one another we should n't agree ! 
There 's little Bill, he 's young and tender, 
We 're old and tough, so let 's eat he. 

" Oh ! Billy, we 're going to kill and eat you, 
So undo the button of your cheraie." 
When Bill received this information 
He used his pocket handkerohie. 

M First let me say my catechism, 
Which my poor mamy taught to me." 
"Make haste, make haste," says guzzling Jimmy, 
While Jack pulled out his snickersnee. 

So Billy went up to the main-top gallant mast, 
And down he fell on his bended knee. 
He scarce had come to the twelfth commandment 
When up he jumps. " There 's land I see : 

" Jersualem and Madagascar, 
And North and South Amerikee : 
There 's the British flog a riding at anchor, 
With Admiral Napier, K. C. B." 

So when they got aboard of the Admiral's 
He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee ; 
But as for little Bill he made him 
The Captain of a Seventy-three. 



THE END OP THE PLAY. 



THE END OF THE PLAY. 

The play is done ; the curtain drops, 

Slow falling to the prompter's bell : 
A moment yet the actor stops, 

And looks around, to say farewell. 
It is an irksome word and task ; 

And, when he's laughed and said his say. 
He shows, as he removes the mask, 

A face that 's anything but gay. 

One word, ere yet the evening ends, 

Let 's close it with a parting rhyme. 
And pledge a hand to all young friends, 

As fits the merry Christmas time. 1 
On life's wide scene you, too hare parts, 

That Fate erelong shall bid you play ; 
Good-night ! with honest gentle hearts 

A kindly greeting go alway ! 

Good-night ! — I'd say, the griefs, the joys, 

Just hinted in this mimic page, 
The triumphs and defeats of boys, 

Are but repeated in our age. 
I 'd say, your woes were not less keen, 

Your hopes more vain than those of men ; 
Your pangs or pleasures of fifteen 

At forty-five played o'er again. 

1 These verses were printed at the end of a Christina* book (184$ -9 ), " Dr. 
Birch and his Young Friends." 



THE END OP THE PLAY. 185 

I 'd say, we suffer and we strive, 

Not less nor more as men than boys ; 
With grizzled beards at forty-fire, 

As erst at twelve in corduroys. 
And if, in time of sacred youth, 

We learned at home to love and pray, 
Pray Heaven that early Love and Truth 

May never wholly pass away. 

And in the world, as in the school, 

I 'd say, how fate may change and shift ; 
The prize be sometimes with the fool, 

The race not always to the swift 
The strong may yield, the good may fall, 

The great man be a vulgar clown, 
The knave be lifted over all, 

The kind cast pitilessly down. 

Who knows the inscrutable design ? 

Blessed be He who took and gave ! 
Why should your mother, Charles, not mine, 

Be weeping at her darling's grave P l 
We bow to Heaven that will *d it so, 

That darkly rules the fate of all, 
That sends the respite or the blow, 

That 's free to give, or to recall. 

This crowns his feast with wine and wit : 

Who brought him to that mirth and state ? 
His betters, see, below him sit, 

Or hunger hopeless at the gate. 
Who bade the mud from Dives' wheel 

To spurn the rags of Lazarus ? 
Come, brother, in that dust we '11 kneel, 

Confessing Heaven that ruled it thus. 

So each shall mourn, in life's advance, 
Dear hopes, dear friends, untimely killed; 

Shall grieve for many a forfeit chance, 
And longing passion unfulfilled. 
* C. B. ob. 2Mb November, 1S48, at 41 



186 BALLADS. 

Amen ! whatever fete be sent, 

Pray God the heart may kindly glow, 

Although the head with cares be bent, 
And whitened with the winter snow. 

Come wealth or want, come good or ill, 

Let young and old accept their part, 
And bow before the Awful Will, 

And bear it with an honest heart, 
Who misses or who wins the prize. 

Go, lose or conquer as you can ; 
But if you fail, or if you rise, 

Be each, pray God, a gentleman. 

A gentleman, or old or young! 

(Bear kindly with my humble lays) ; 
The sacred chorus first was sung 

Upon the first of Christmas days : 
The shepherds heard it overhead — 

The joyful angels raised it then : 
Glory to Heaven on high, it said, 

And peace on earth to gentle men. 

My song, save this, is little worth ; 

I lay the weary pen aside, 
And wish you health, and love, and mirth, 

As fits the solemn Christmas-tide. 
As fits the holy Christmas birth, 

Be this, good friends, our carol still — 
Be peace on earth, be peace on earth, 

To men of gentle will 



VANITAS VANITATUM. 

How spake of old the Royal Seer P 
(His text is one I love to treat on.) 

This life of ours he said is sheer 
Mataiotet Mataiottton. 



n 



THE END OF THE PLAY. 187 

O Student of this gilded Book, 

Declare, while musing on its pages, 
If truer words were ever spoke 

By ancient, or by modern sages P 

The various authors' names but note, 1 
French, Spanish, English, Russians, Germans : 

And in the volume polyglot, 
Sure you may read a hundred sermons ! 

What histories of life are here, 

More wild than all romancers' stories ; 
What wondrous transformations queer, 

What homilies on human glories! 

What theme for sorrow or for scorn ! 

What chronicle of Fate's surprises — 
Of adverse fortune nobly borne, 

Of chances, changes, ruins, rises ! 

Of thrones upset, and sceptres broke, 

How strange a record here is written ! 
Of honors, dealt as if in joke ; 

Of brave desert unkindly smitten. 

How low men were, and how they rise ! 
How high they were, and how they tumble ! 

vanity of vanities ! 

laughable, pathetic jumble ! 

Here between honest Janin's joke 
And his Turk Excellency's firman, 

1 write my name upon the book : 

1 write my name — and end my sermon. 



Vanity of vanities ! 

How wayward the decrees of Fate are ; 
How very weak the very wise, 

How very small the very great are ! 

1 Between a page by Jules Janin, and a poem by the Turkish Ambassador, 
in Madame de R— '• album, containing the autographs of kings, princes, 
poets, marshals, musicians, diplomatists, statesmen, artists, and men of letters 
of all nations. 



188 BALLADS. 

What mean these stale moralities, 
Sir Preacher, from your desk you mumble? 

Why rail against the great and wise, 
And tire us with your ceaseless grumble ? 

Fray choose us out another text, 
O man morose and narrow-minded ! 

Come turn the page — I read the next, 
And then the next, and still I find it 

Head here how Wealth aside was thrust, 
And Folly set in place exalted ; 

How Princes footed in the dust, 
While lackeys in the saddle vaulted. 

Though thrice a thousand years are past, 
Since David's son, the sad and splendid, 

The weary King Ecclesiast, 
Upon his awful tablets penned it, — 

Methinks the text is never stale, 
And life is every day renewing 

Fresh comments on the old old tale 
Of Folly, Fortune, Glory, Ruin. 

Hark to the Preacher, preaching still 
He lifts his voice and cries bis sermon, 

Here at St, Peter's of Cornhill, 
As yonder on the Mount of Hermon : 

For you and me to heart to take 
(0 dear beloved brother readers) 

To-day as when the good King spake 
Beneath the solemn Syrian cedars. 



MEN'S WIVES. 
Bt g. fitz-boodle. 



L-. 



MEN'S WIVES. 



THE RAVENSWING. 



CHAPTER I. 

WHICH 18 ENTIRELY INTRODUCTORY. — CONTAINS AN 
ACCOUNT OF MISS CRUMP, HER SUITORS AND HER 
FAMILY CIRCLE. 

In a certain quiet and sequestered nook of the 
retired village of London — perhaps in the neighbor- 
hood of Berkeley Square, or at any rate somewhere 
near Burlington Gardens — there was once a house 
of entertainment called the "Bootjack Hotel." Mr. 
Crump, the landlord, had, in the outset of life, per- 
formed the duties of boots in some inn even more 
frequented than his own, and, far from being ashamed 
of his origin, as many persons are in the days of 
their prosperity, had thus solemnly recorded it over 
the hospitable gate of his hotel. 

Crump married Miss Budge, so well known to the 
admirers of the festive dance on the other side of the 
water as Miss Delancy ; and they had one daughter, 
named Morgiana, after that celebrated part in the 
" Forty Thieves " which Miss Budge performed with 
unbounded applause both at the " Surrey" and "The 
Wells." Mrs. Crump sat in a little bar, profusely 



192 MEN'S WIVES. 

ornamented with pictures of the dancers of all ages, 
from Hillisberg, Rose, Parisot, who plied the light 
fantastic toe in 1805, down to the Sylphides of our 
day. There was in the collection a charming por- 
trait of herself, done by De Wilde ; she was in the 
dress of Morgiana, and in the act of pouring, to very 
slow music, a quantity of boiling oil into one of the 
forty jars. In this sanctuary she sat, with black 
eyes, black hair, a purple face and a turban, and 
morning, noon, or night, as you went into the parlor 
of the hotel, there was Mrs. Crump taking tea (with 
a little something in it), looking at the fashions, 
or reading Cumberland's "British Theatre." The 
" Sunday Times " was her paper, for she voted the 
"Dispatch/' that journal which is taken in by most 
ladies of her profession, to be vulgar and Radical, 
and loved the theatrical gossip in which the other 
mentioned journal abounds. 

The fact is, that the "Royal Bootjack," though a 
humble, was a very genteel house ; and a very little 
persuasion would induce Mr. Crump, as he looked at 
his own door in the sun, to tell you that he had him- 
self once drawn off with that very bootjack the top- 
boots of His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales 
and the first gentlemen in Europe. While, then, the 
houses of •entertainment in the neighborhood were 
loud in their pretended liberal politics, the "Boot- 
jack" stuck to the good old Conservative line, and 
was only frequented by such persons as were of that 
way of thinking. There were two parlors, much 
accustomed, one for the gentlemen of the shoulder- 
knot, who came from the houses of their employers 
hard by; another for some "gents who used the 
'ouse," as Mrs. Crump would say (Heaven bless her !) 
m her simple Cockniac dialect, and who formed a 
little club there. 



THE BAVENSWING. 193 

I forgot to say that while Mrs. C. was sipping her 
eternal tea or washing up her endless blue china, 
you might often hear Miss Morgiana employed at 
the little red silk cottage piano, singing, "Come 
where the haspens quiver," or " Bonny lad, march over 
hill and furrow/' or " My art and lute," or any other 
popular piece of the day. And the dear girl sung 
with very considerable skill too, for she had a fine 
loud voice, which if not always in tune, made up for 
that defect by its great energy and activity; and 
Morgiana was not content with singing the mere 
tune, but gave every one of the roulades, flourishes, 
and ornaments as she heard them at the theatres by 
Mrs. Humby, Mrs. Waylett, or Madame Vestris. 
The girl had a fine black eye like her mamma, a 
grand enthusiasm for the stage, as every actor's child 
will have, and, if the truth must be known, had 
appeared many and many a time at the theatre in 
Catherine Street, in minor parts first, and then in 
Little Pickle, in Desdemona, in Rosina, and in Miss 
Foote's part where she used to dance : I have not the 
name to my hand, but think it is Davidson. Four 
times in the week, at least, her mother and she used 
to sail off at night to some place of public amusement, 
for Mrs. Crump had a mysterious acquaintance with 
all sorts of theatrical personages; and the gates of 
her old haunt, "The Wells," of the "Cobourg" (by 
the kind permission of Mrs. Davidge), nay, of the 
"Lane" and the "Market" themselves, flew open 
before her " Open sesame," as the robbers' door did 
to her colleague, Ali Baba (Hornbuckle) in the oper- 
atic piece in which she was so famous. 

Beer was Mr. Crump's beverage, variegated by a 
little gin, in the evenings ; and little need be said of 
this gentleman except that he discharged his duties 
vol. xxix. — 13 



194 MEN'S WIVES. 

honorably, and filled the president's chair at the club 
as completely as it could possibly be filled ; for he 
could not even sit in it in his great-coat, so accurately 
was the seat adapted to him. His wife and daughter, 
perhaps, thought somewhat slightingly of him, for he 
had no literary tastes, and had never been at a theatre 
since he took his bride from one. He was valet to 
Lord Slapper at the time, and certain it is that his 
lordship set him up in the "Bootjack," and that 
stories had been told. But what are such to you or 
me? Let bygones be bygones; Mrs. Crump was 
quite as honest as her neighbors, and Miss had £500, 
to be paid down on the day of her wedding. 

Those who know the habits of the British trades- 
man are aware that he has gregarious propensities 
like any lord in the land ; that he loves a joke, that 
he is not averse to a glass ; that after the day's toil 
he is happy to consort with men of his degree ; and 
that as society is not so far advanced among us as to 
allow him to enjoy the comforts of splendid club- 
houses, which are open to many persons with not a 
tenth part of his pecuniary means, he meets his 
friends in the cosey tavern parlor, where a neat sanded 
floor, a large Windsor chair, and a glass of hot some- 
thing and water, make him as happy as any of the 
clubmen in their magnificent saloons. 

At the "Bootjack" was, as we have said, a very 
genteel and select society, called the " Kidney Club," 
from the fact that on Saturday evenings a little 
graceful supper of broiled kidneys was usually dis- 
cussed by the members of the club. Saturday was 
their grand night; not but that they met on all 
other nights in the week when inclined for festivity : 
and indeed some of them could not come on Satur- 
days in the summer, having elegant villas in the 



THE BAVBNSWINO. 195 

suburbs, where they passed the six-and-thirty hours 
of recreation that are happily to be found at the end 
of every week. 

There was Mr. Balls, the great grocer of South 
Audley Street, a warm man, who, they say, had his 
£20,000 ; Jack Snaffle, of the mews hard by, a capital 
fellow for a song; Clinker, the ironmonger: all 
married gentlemen and in the best line of business ; 
Tressle, the undertaker, etc. No liveries were ad- 
mitted into the room, as may be imagined, but one or 
two select butlers and major-domos joined the circle ; 
for the persons composing it knew very well how 
important it was to be on good terms with these gen- 
tlemen: and many a time my lord's account would 
never have been paid, and my lady's large order 
never have been given, but for the conversation 
which took place at the " Bootjack," and the friendly 
intercourse subsisting between all the members of the 
society. 

The tiptop men of the society were two bachelors, 
and two as fashionable tradesmen as any in the town : 
Mr. Woolsey, from Stultz's, of the famous house of 
Linsey, Woolsey and Co. of Conduit Street, Tailors ; 
and Mr. Eglantine, the celebrated perruquier and 
perfumer of Bond Street, whose soaps, razors, and 
patent ventilating scalps are known throughout 
Europe. Linsey, the senior partner of the tailors* 
firm, had his handsome mansion in Regent's Park, 
drove his buggy, and did little more than lend his 
name to the house. Woolsey lived in it, was the 
working man of the firm, and it was said that his 
cut was as magnificent as that of any man in the pro- 
fession. Woolsey and Eglantine were rivals in many 
ways, — rivals in fashion, rivals in wit, and, above all, 
rivals for the hand of an amiable young lady whom we 



196 MEIT8 WIVES. 

have already mentioned, the dark-eyed songstress Mor- 
giana Crump. They were both desperately in love 
with her, that was the truth ; and each, in the absence 
of the other, abused his rival heartily. Of the hair- 
dresser Woolsey said, that as for Eglantine being his 
real name, it was all in his (Mr. Woolsey's) eye ; that 
he was in the hands of the Jews, and his stock 
and grand shop eaten up by usury. And with regard 
to Woolsey, Eglantine remarked, that his pretence of 
being descended from the Cardinal was all nonsense ; 
that he was a partner, certainly, in the firm, but had 
only a sixteenth share ; and that the firm could never 
get their moneys in, and had an immense number of 
bad debts in their books. As is usual, there was a 
great deal of truth and a great deal of malice in these 
tales ; however, the gentlemen were, take them all in 
all, in a very fashionable way of business, and had 
their claims to Miss Morgiana's hand backed by the 
parents. Mr. Crump was a partisan of the tailor; 
while Mrs. C. was a strong advocate for the claims of 
the enticing perfumer. 

Now, it was a curious fact, that these two gentle- 
men were each in need of the other's services — 
Woolsey being afflicted with premature baldness, or 
some other necessity for a wig still more fatal — 
Eglantine being a very fat man, who required much 
art to make his figure at all decent. He wore a 
brown frock-coat and frogs, and attempted by all 
sorts of contrivances to hide his obesity ; but Wool- 
soy's remark, that, dress as he would, he would 
always look like a snob, and that there was only one 
man in England who could make a gentleman of 
him, went to the perfumer's soul ; and if there was 
one thing on earth he longed for (not including the 
hand of Miss Crump), it was to have a coat from 



THE RAVENSWING. 197 

Linsey's in which costume he was sure that Morgiana 
would not resist him. 

If Eglantine was uneasy about the coat, on the 
other hand he attacked Woolsey atrociously on the 
score of his wig; for though the latter went to 
the best makers, he never could get a peruke to sit 
naturally upon him ; and the unhappy epithet of Mr. 
Wiggins, applied to him on one occasion by the barber, 
stuck to him ever after in the club, and made him 
writhe when it was uttered. Each man would have 
quitted the " Kidneys " in disgust long since, but for 
the other — for each had an attraction in the place, and 
dared not leave the field in possession of his rival 

To do Miss Morgiana justice, it must be said, that 
she did not encourage one more than another ; but as 
far as accepting eau-de-Cologne and hair-combs from 
the perfumer, — some opera tickets, a treat to Green- 
wich, and a piece of real Genoa velvet for a bonnet 
(it had originally been intended for a waistcoat), from 
the admiring tailor, she had been equally kind to each, 
and in return had made each a present of a lock of 
her beautiful glossy hair. It was all she had to give 
poor girl! and what could she do but gratify her 
admirers by this cheap and artless testimony of her 
regard? A pretty scene and quarrel took place 
between the rivals on the day when they discovered 
that each was in possession of one of Morgiana's 
ringlets. 

Such, then, were the owners and inmates of the 
little "Bootjack," from whom and which, as this 
chapter is exceedingly discursive and descriptive, we 
must separate the reader for a while, and carry him — 
it is only into Bond Street, so no gentleman need be 
afraid-— carry him into Bond Street, where some 
other personages are awaiting his consideration. 



198 MENS WIVES. 

Not far from Mr. Eglantine's shop in Bond Street, 
stand, as is very well known, the Windsor chambers. 
The West Diddlesex Association (Western Branch), 
the British and Foreign Soap Company, the celebrated 
attorneys Kite and Levison, have their respective 
offices here ; and as the names of the other inhabitants 
of the chambers are not only painted on the walls, 
but also registered in Mrs. Boyle's " Court Guide," it 
is quite unnecessary that they should be repeated 
here. Among them, on the entresol (between the 
splendid saloons of the Soap Company on the first 
floor, with their statue of Britannia presenting a 
packet of the soap to Europe, Asia, Africa, and 
America, and the West Diddlesex Western Branch on 
the basement) — lives a gentleman by the name of 
Mr. Howard Walker. The brass plate on the door 
of that gentleman's chambers had the word " Agency " 
inscribed beneath his name ; and we are therefore at 
liberty to imagine that he followed that mysterious 
occupation. In person Mr. Walker was very genteel ; 
he had large whiskers, dark eyes (with a slight cast 
in them), a cane, and a velvet waistcoat He was a 
member of a club ; had an admission to the opera, and 
knew every face behind the scenes ; and was in the 
habit of using a number of French phrases in his 
conversation, having picked up a smattering of that 
language during a residence " on the Continent ; " in 
fact, he had found it very convenient at various times 
of his life to dwell in the city of Boulogne, where he 
acquired a knowledge of smoking, icarti, and billiards, 
which was afterwards of great service to him. He 
knew all the best tables in town, and the marker at 
Hunf s could only give him ten. He had some 
fashionable acquaintances too, and you might see him 
walking arm-in-arm with such gentlemen as my Lord 



THE EAVENSWING. 199 

Vauxhall, the Marquis of Billingsgate, or Captain 
Buff ; and at the same time nodding to young Moses, 
the dandy bailiff; or Loder, the gambling-house 
keeper; or Aminadab, the cigar-seller in the Quadrant 
Sometimes he wore a pair of mustaches, and was 
called Captain Walker ; grounding his claim to that 
title upon the fact of having once held a commission 
in the service of her Majesty the Queen of Portugal. 
It scarcely need be said that he had been through the 
Insolvent Court many times. But to those who did 
not know his history intimately there was some 
difficulty in identifying him with the individual who 
had so taken the benefit of the law, inasmuch as in his 
schedule his name appeared as Hooker Walker, wine- 
merchant, commission-agent, music-seller, or what not. 
The fact is, that though he preferred to call himself 
Howard, Hooker was his Christian name, and it had 
been bestowed on him by his worthy old father, who 
was a clergyman, and had intended his son for that 
profession. But as the old gentleman died in York 
jail, where he was a prisoner for debt, he was never 
able to put his pious intentions with regard to his son 
into execution ; and the young fellow (as he was wont 
with many oaths to assert) was thrown on his own 
resources, and became a man of the world at a very 
early age. 

What Mr. Howard Walker's age was at the time of 
the commencement of this history, and, indeed, for an 
indefinite period before or afterwards, it is impossible 
to determine. If he were eight-and-twenty, as he 
asserted himself, Time had dealt hardly with him: 
his hair was thin, there were many crows'-feet about 
his eyes, and other signs in his countenance of the 
progress of decay. If, on the contrary, he were forty, 
as Sain Snaffle declared, who himself had misfortunes 



200 MEN'S WIVES. 

in early life, and vowed he knew Mr. Walker in 
Whitecross Street Prison in 1820, he was a very 
young-looking person considering his age. His figure 
was active and slim, his leg neat, and he had not in 
his whiskers a single white hair. 

It must, however, be owned that he used Mr. Eg- 
lantine's Regenerative Unction (which will make 
your whiskers as black as your boot), and, in fact, 
he was a pretty constant visitor at that gentleman's 
emporium; dealing with him largely for soaps and 
articles of perfumery, which he had at an exceedingly 
low rate. Indeed, he was never known to pay Mr. 
Eglantine one single shilling for those objects of 
luxury, and, having them on such moderate terms, 
was enabled to indulge in them pretty copiously. 
Thus Mr. Walker was almost as great a nosegay as 
Mr. Eglantine himself : his handkerchief was scented 
with verbena, his hair with jessamine, and his coat 
had usually a fine perfume of cigars, which rendered 
his presence in a small room almost instantaneously 
remarkable. I have described Mr. Walker thus accu- 
rately, because, in truth, it is more with characters 
than with astounding events that this little history 
deals, and Mr. Walker is one of the principals of our 
dramatis pereonce. 

And so, having introduced Mr. W., we will walk 
over with him to Mr. Eglantine's emporium, where 
that gentleman is in waiting, too, to have his likeness 
taken. 

There is about an acre of plate glass under the 
royal arms on Mr. Eglantine's shop-window ; and at 
night, when the gas is lighted, and the washballs are 
illuminated, and the lambent flame plays fitfully over 
numberless bottles of vari-oolored perfumes — now 
flashes on a case of razors, and now lightens up a 



THE RAVENSWING. 201 

trystal vase, containing a hundred thousand of his 
patent tooth-brushes — the effect of the sight may be 
imagined. You don't suppose that he is a creature 
who has those odious, simpering wax figures in his 
window, that are called by the vulgar dummies ? He 
is above such a wretched artifice ; and it is my belief 
that he would as soon have his own head chopped off, 
and placed as a trunkless decoration to his shop-win- 
dow, as allow a dummy to figure there. On one pane 
you read in elegant gold letters "Eglantinia" — 'tis 
his essence for the handkerchief; on the other is 
written " Regenerative Unction " — 't is his invaluable 
pomatum for the hair. 

There is no doubt about it : Eglantine's knowledge 
of his profession amounts to genius. He sells a cake 
of soap for seven shillings, for which another man 
would not get a shilling, and his tooth-brushes go off 
like wildfire at half a guinea apiece. If he has to ad- 
minister rouge or pearl-powder to ladies, he does it 
with a mystery and fascination which there is no re- 
sisting, and the ladies believe there are no cosmetics 
like his. He gives his wares unheard of names, and 
obtains for them sums equally prodigious. He cam, 
dress hair — that is a fact — as few men in this age 
can ; and has been known to take twenty pounds in a 
single night from as many of the first ladies of Eng- 
land when ringlets were in fashion. The introduction 
of bands, he says, made a difference of £2,000 a year 
in his income ; and if there is one thing in the world 
he hates and despises, it is a Madonna. "I 'm not," 
says he, "a tradesman — I 'm a hartirt" (Mr. Eglan- 
tine was born in London) — "I'm a hartist; and 
show me a fine 'ead of 'air, and 1 11 dress it for no- 
think." He vows that it was his way of dressing 
Mademoiselle Sontag's hair, that caused the count 



202 MEN'S WIVES. 

her husband to fall in love with her ; and he has a 
lock of it in a brooch, and says it was the finest head he 
ever saw, except one, and that was Morgiana Cramp's. 

With his genius and his position in the profession, 
how comes it, then, that Mr. Eglantine was not a man 
of fortune, as many a less clever has been ? If the 
truth must be told, he loved pleasure, and was in the 
hands of the Jews. He had been in business twenty 
years : he had borrowed a thousand pounds to pur- 
chase his stock and shop ; and he calculated that he 
had paid upwards of twenty thousand pounds for the 
use of the one thousand, which was still as much due 
as on the first day when he entered business. He 
could show that he had received a thousand dozen of 
champagne from the disinterested money-dealers with 
whom he usually negotiated his paper. He had pic- 
tures all over his " studios," which had been purchased 
in the same bargains. If he sold his goods at an 
enormous price, he paid for them at a rate almost 
equally exorbitant. There was not an article in his 
shop but came to him through his Israelite providers ; 
and in the very front shop itself sat a gentleman who 
was the nominee of one of them, and who was called 
Mr. Mossrose. He was there to superintend the cash 
account, and to see that certain instalments were paid 
to his principals, according to certain agreements en- 
tered into between Mr. Eglantine and them. 

Having that sort of opinion of Mr. Mossrose which 
Damocles may have had of the sword which hung over 
his head, of course Mr. Eglantine hated his foreman 
profoundly. " He an artist," would the former gen- 
tleman exclaim ; " why, he 's only a disguised bailiff ! 
Mossrose indeed ! The chap's name's Amos, and he 
sold oranges before he came here," Mr. Mossrose, on 
his side, utterly despised Mr. Eglantine, and looked 



THE BAVENSWING. 203 

forward to the day when he would become the propri- 
etor of the shop, and take Eglantine for a foreman ; 
and then it would be his turn to sneer and bully, and 
ride the high horse. 

Thus it will be seen that there was a skeleton in the 
great perfumer's house, as the saying is : a worm in 
his heart's core, and though to all appearance prosper- 
ous, he was really in an awkward position. 

What Mr. Eglantine's relations were with Mr. 
Walker may be imagined from the following dialogue 
which took place between the two gentlemen at five 
o'clock one summer's afternoon, when Mr. Walker, is- 
suing from his chambers, came across to the per- 
fumer's shop : — 

"Is Eglantine at home, Mr. Mossrose?" said 
Walker to the foreman, who sat in the front shop. 

" Don't know — go and look " (meaning go and be 
hanged) : for Mossrose also hated Mr. Walker. 

"If you're uncivil I'll break your bones, Mr. 
Amos" says Mr. Walker, sternly. 

" I should like to see you try, Mr. Hooker Walker," 
replies the undaunted shopman ; on which the Cap- 
tain, looking several tremendous callings at him, 
walked into the back room or " studio." 

"How are you, Tiny my buck ?" says the Captain. 
"Much doing?" 

" Not a soul in town. I 'ave n't touched the hirons 
all day," replied Mr. Eglantine, in rather a despond- 
ing way. 

" Well, just get them ready now, and give my whis- 
kers a turn. I 'm going to dine with Billingsgate and 
some out-and-out fellows at the 'Regent/ and so, my 
lad, just do your best." 

"I can't," says Mr. Eglantine. "I expect ladies, 
Captain, every minute." 



204 MEN'S WIVES. 

"Very good; I don't want to trouble such a great 
man, I 'm sure. Good-by, and let me bear from you 
this day week, Mr. Eglantine." "This day week 9 ' 
meant that at seven days from that time a certain bill 
accepted by Mr. Eglantine would be due, and pre- 
sented for payment 

" Don't be in such a hurry, Captain — do sit down. 
I '11 curl you in one minute. And, I say, won't the 
party renew ? " 

u Impossible — it 's the third renewal" 

" But I '11 make the thing handsome to you ; — in- 
deed I will." 

"How much?" 

" Will ten pounds do the business ? " 

" What ! offer my principal ten pounds ? Are you 
mad, Eglantine ? — A little more of the iron to the 
left whisker." 

" No, I meant for commission." 

" Well, I '11 see if that will do. The party I deal 
with, Eglantine, has power, I know, and can defer the 
matter no doubt. As for me, you know, Vve nothing 
to do in the affair, and only act as a friend between 
you and him. I give you my honor and soul, I do." 

"I know you do, my dear sir." The two last 
speeches were lies. The perfumer knew perfectly 
well that Mr. Walker would pocket the £10 ; but he 
was too easy to care for paying it, and too timid to 
quarrel with such a powerful friend. And he had on 
three different occasions already paid £10 fine for the 
renewal of the bill in question, all of which bonuses 
he knew went to his friend Mr. Walker. 

Here, too, the reader will perceive what was, in 
part, the meaning of the word " agency " on Mr. 
Walker's door. He was a go-between between money- 
lenders and borrowers in this world, and certain small 



THE RAVENSWING. 205 

soma always remained with him in the course of the 
transaction. He was an agent for wine, too; an agent 
for places to be had through the influence of great 
men ; he was an agent for half a dozen theatrical peo- 
ple, male and female, and had the interests of the lat- 
ter especially, it was said, at heart Such were a few 
of the means by which this worthy gentleman con- 
trived to support himself, and if, as he was fond of 
high living, gambling, and pleasures of all kinds, his 
revenue was not large enough for his expenditure — 
why, he got into debt, and settled his bills that way. 
He was as much at home in the Fleet as in Pall Mall, 
and quite as happy in the one place as in the other. 
" That 's the way I take things," would this philoso- 
pher say. " If I 've money, I spend ; if I 've credit, I 
borrow; if I'm dunned, I whitewash; and so you 
can't beat me down." Happy elasticity of tempera- 
ment ! I do believe that in spite of his misfortunes 
and precarious position, there was no man in England 
whose conscience was more calm and whose slumbers 
were more tranquil than those of Captain Howard 
Walker. 

As he was sitting under the hands of Mr. Eglan- 
tine, he reverted to "the ladies," whom the latter 
gentleman professed to expect; said he was a sly 
dog, a lucky ditto, and asked him if the ladies were 
handsome. 

Eglantine thought there could be no barm in telling 
a bouncer to a gentleman with whom he was engaged 
in money transactions ; and so, to give the Captain an 
idea of his solvency and the brilliancy of his future 
prospects, " Captain," said he, " I We got a hundred 
and eighty pounds out with you, which you were 
obliging enough to negotiate for me. Have I, or have 
I not, two bills out to that amount ? " 



206 MEN'S WIVES. 

"Well, my good fellow, you certainly have; and 
what then ? " 

" What then ? Why, I bet you five pounds to one, 
that in three months those bills are paid." 

" Done ! five pounds to one. I take it." 

This sudden closing with him made the perfumer 
rather uneasy; but he was not to pay for three 
months, and so he said " Done ! " too, and went on : 
" What would you say if your bills were paid ? " 

" Not mine ; Pike's." 

" Well, if Pike's were paid ; and the Minories' man 
paid, and every single liability I have cleared off; 
and that Mossrose flung out of winder, and me and 
my emporium as free as hair ? " 

"You don't say so? Is Queen Anne dead? and 
has she left you a fortune ? or what 's the luck in the 
wind now ? " 

"It's better than Queen Anne, or anybody dying. 
What should you say to seeing in that very place 
where Mossrose now sits (hang him !) — seeing the 
finest head of 'air now in Europe ? A woman, I tell 
you — a slap-up lovely woman, who, I 'm proud to say, 
will soon be called Mrs. Heglantine, and will bring 
me five thousand pounds to her fortune." 

"Well, Tiny, this is good luck indeed. I say, 
you'll be able to do a bill or two for me then, hay ? 
You won't forget an old friend ? " 

" That I won't. I shall have a place at my board 
for you, Capting ; and many 's the time I shall 'ope to 
see you under that ma'ogany." 

"What will the French milliner say ? She 11 hang 
herself for despair, Eglantine." 

" Hush ! not a word about 'er. I 've sown all my 
wild oats, I tell you. Eglantine is no longer the gay 
young bachelor, but the sober married man. I want 



THE RAVENSWING. 207 

a heart to share the feelings of mine. I want repose. 
I 'm not so young as I was, I feel it." 
" Pooh ! pooh ! you are — you are — " 
"Well, but I sigh for an 'appy fireside; and I'll 
have it." 

" And give up that club which you belong to, hay ? " 
" l The Kidneys ' ? Oh ! of course, no married man 
should belong to such places : at least, J'll not ; and 
I '11 have my kidneys broiled at home. But be quiet, 
Captain, if you please ; the ladies appointed to — " 
" And is it the lady you expect ? eh, you rogue ! " 
"Well, get along. It 's her and her raa." 
But Mr. Walker determined he would n't get along, 
and would see these lovely ladies before he stirred. 

The operation on Mr. Walker's whiskers being con- 
cluded, he was arranging his toilet before the glass in 
an agreeable attitude : his neck out, his enormous pin 
settled in his stock to his satisfaction, his eyes com- 
placently directed towards the reflection of his left 
and favorite whisker. Eglantine was laid on a settee, 
in an easy, though melancholy posture ; he was twid- 
dling the tongs with which he had just operated on 
Walker with one hand, and his right-hand ringlet with 
the other, and he was thinking — thinking of Mor- 
giana; and then of the bill which was to become due 
on the 16th ; and then of a light blue velvet waistcoat 
with gold sprigs, in which he looked very killing, and 
so was trudging round in his little circle of loves, 
fears, and vanities. "Hang it!" Mr. Walker was 
thinking, " I am a handsome man. A pair of whiskers 
like mine are not met with every day. If anybody 
can see that my tuft is dyed, may I be — " When 
the door was flung open, and a large lady with a curl 
on her forehead, yellow shawl, a green- velvet bonnet 
with feathers, half-boots, and a drab gown with tulips 



208 MEN'S WIVE& 

and other large exotics painted on it — when, in a 
word, Mrs. Crump and her daughter bounced into the 
room. 

" Here we are, Mr. E.," cries Mrs. Crump, in a gay> 
foldtre, confidential air. " But law ! there 's a gent in 
the room ! " 

" Don't mind me, ladies," said the gent alluded to, 
with his fascinating way. " I 'm a friend of Eglan- 
tine's ; ain't I, Egg ? a chip of the old block, hay ? " 

" That you are," said the perfumer, starting up. 

"An 'air-dresser ? " asked Mrs. Crump. "Well, I 
thought he was ; there 's something, Mr. K, in gentle- 
men of your profession so exceeding, so uncommon 
distangyP 

" Madam, you do me proud," replied the gentleman 
so complimented, with great presence of mind. " Will 
you allow me to try my skill upon you, or upon Miss, 
your lovely daughter ? I 'm not so clever as Eglan- 
tine, but no bad hand, I assure you." 

"Nonsense, Captain," interrupted the perfumer, 
who was uncomfortable somehow at the rencontre be- 
tween the Captain and the object of his affection. 
11 He 1 8 not in the profession, Mrs. C. This is my 
friend Captain Walker, and proud I am to call him 
my friend." And then aside to Mrs. C, " One of the 
first swells on town, Ma'am — a regular tip-topper." 

Humoring the mistake which Mrs. Crump had just 
made, Mr. Walker thrust the curling-irons into the 
fire in a minute, and looked round at the ladies with 
such a fascinating grace, that both, now made ac- 
quainted with his quality, blushed and giggled, and 
were quite pleased. Mamma looked at 'Gina, and 
'Gina looked at mamma; and then mamma gave 
'Gina a little blow in the region of her little waist, 
and then both burst out laughing, as ladies will 



THE RAVENSWING. 209 

laugh, and as, let us trust, they may laugh for ever 
and ever. Why need there be a reason for laughing ? 
Let us laugh when we are laughy, as we sleep when we 
are sleepy. And so Mrs. Crump and her demoiselle 
laughed to their hearts' content ; and both fixed their 
large shining black eyes repeatedly on Mr. Walker. 

" I won't leave the room," said he, coming forward 
with the heated iron in his hand, and smoothing it on 
the brown paper with all the dexterity of a professor 
(for the fact is, Mr. W. every morning curled his own 
immense whiskers with the greatest skill and care) — 
"I won't leave the room, Eglantine my boy. My 
lady here took me for a hairdresser, and so, you know, 
I've a right to stay." 

"He can't stay," said Mrs. Crump, all of a sudden, 
blushing as red as a peony. 

" I shall have on my peignoir, Mamma," said Miss, 
looking at the gentleman, and then dropping down 
her eyes and blushing too. 

" But he can 't stay, 'Gina, I tell you: do you think 
that I would, before a gentleman, take off my — " 

"Mamma means her front I" said Miss, jumping 
up, and beginning to laugh with all her might; at 
which the honest landlady of the "Bootjack," who 
loved a joke, although at her own expense, laughed 
too, and said that no one, except Mr. Crump and Mr. 
Eglantine, had ever seen her without the ornament 
in question. 

" Do go now, you provoking thing, you!" continued 
Miss C. to Mr. Walker; "I wish to hear the hover- 
ture, and it 's six o'clock now, and we shall never be 
done against then : " but the way in which Morgiana 
said "do go," clearly indicated "don't" to the per- 
spicuous mind of Mr. Walker. 

" Perhaps you 'ad better go," continued Mr. Eglan- 
VOL. zxix. — 14 



210 MEN'S WIVEa 

tine, joining in this sentiment, and being, in truth, 
somewhat uneasy at the admiration which his " swell 
friend" excited. 

"I'll see you hanged first, Eggy my boy! Go I 
won't, until these ladies have had their hair dressed: 
didn't you yourself tell me that Miss Crump's was 
the most beautiful hair in Europe? And do you 
think that I '11 go away without seeing it ? No, here 
I stay." 

"You naughty, wicked, odious, provoking man I" 
said Miss Crump. But, at the same time, she took 
off her bonnet, and placed it on one of the side candle- 
sticks of Mr. Eglantine's glass (it was a black-velvet 
bonnet, trimmed with sham lace, and with a wreath of 
nasturtiums, convolvuluses, and wallflowers within) ; 
and then said, " Give me the peignoir, Mr. Archibald, 
if you please;" and Eglantine, who would do any- 
thing for her when she called him Archibald, imme- 
diately produced that garment, and wrapped round 
the delicate shoulders of the lady, who removing a 
sham gold chain which she wore on her forehead, two 
brass hair-combs set with glass rubies, and the comb 
which kept her back hair together, — removing them, 
I say, and turning her great eyes towards the 
stranger, and giving her head a shake, down let 
tumble such a flood of shining, waving, heavy, glossy, 
jetty hair, as would have done Mr. Rowland's heart 
good to see. It tumbled down Miss Morgiana's back, 
and it tumbled over her shoulders, it tumbled over 
the chair on which she sat, and from the midst of it 
her jolly, bright-eyed, rosy face beamed out with a 
triumphant smile, which said, "A'n't I now the most 
angelic being you ever saw ? " 

"By Heaven! it's the most beautiful thing I ever 
saw !" cried Mr. Walker, with undisguised admiration. 



THE RAVENSWING. 211 

"Isn't it?" said Mrs. Crump, who made her 
daughter's triumph her own. "Heigho! when I 
acted at 'The Wells' in 1820, before that dear girl 
was born, 1 had such a head of hair as that, to a 
shade, sir, to a shade. They called me Bavenswing 
on account of it I lost my head of hair when that 
dear child was born, and I often say to her, 'Morgi- 
ana, you came into the world to rob your mother of 
her air. 7 Were you ever at ' The Wells,' sir, in 1820? 
Perhaps you recollect Miss Delancy ? I am that Miss 
Delancy. Perhaps you recollect, — 

« < Tink-o-tink, tink-a-tink, 
By the light of the star, 
On the blue river's brink, 
I heard a guitar. 

MI I heard a guitar, 

On the blue waters clear, 
And knew by its mu-u-sic, 
That Selim was near ! • 

Tou remember that in the ' Bagdad Bells ' ? Fatima, 
Delancy; Selim, Benlomond (his real name was 
Bunnion : and he failed, poor fellow, in the public 
line afterwards). It was done to the tambourine, and 
dancing between each verse,— 

« ' Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, 
How the soft music swells, 
And I hear the soft clink 
Of the minaret bells * 

"«Tink-a — 9n 

" Oh t " here cried Miss Crump, as if in exceeding 
pain (and whether Mr. Eglantine had twitched, 
pulled, or hurt any one individual hair of that 



l 



212 MEN'S WIVES. 

lovely head I don't know), — "Oh, you are killing 
me, Mr. Eglantine ! " 

And with this mamma, who was in her attitude, 
holding up the end of her boa as a visionary tam- 
bourine, and Mr. Walker, who was looking at her, 
and in his amusement at the mother's performances 
had almost forgotten the charms of the daughter, — 
both turned round at once, and looked at her with 
many expressions of sympathy, while Eglantine, in a 
voice of reproach, said, "Killed you, Morgiana! I 
kill you?" 

"I'm better now," said the young lady, with a 
smile, — "I'm better, Mr. Archibald, now." And if 
the truth must be told, no greater coquette than Miss 
Morgiana oxisted in all May Fair, — no, not among 
the most fashionable mistresses of the fashionable 
valets who frequented the "Bootjack." She believed 
herself to be the most fascinating creature that the 
world ever produced; she never saw a stranger but 
she tried these fascinations upon him; and her 
charms of manner and person were of that showy 
sort which is most popular in this world, where peo- 
ple are wont to admire most that which gives them 
the least trouble to see ; and so you will find a tulip 
of a woman to be in fashion when a little humble 
violet or daisy of creation is passed over without re- 
mark. Morgiana was a tulip among women, and the 
tulip-fanciers all camo flocking round her. 

Well, the said "Oh!" and "I'm better now, Mr. 
Archibald," thereby succeeded in drawing everybody's 
attention to her lovely self. By the latter words 
Mr. Eglantine was specially inflamed ; he glanced at 
Mr. Walkor, and said, "Capting! didn't I tell you 
she was a creecher ? See her hair, sir : it 's as black 
and as glossy as satting. It weighs fifteen pound, that 



THE RAVENSWING. 213 

hair, sir; and I wouldn't let my apprentice — that- 
blundering Mossrose, for instance (hang him !) — I 
would n't let any one but myself dress that hair for 
five hundred guineas ! Ah, Miss Morgiana, remember 
that you may always have Eglantine to dress your 
hair! — remember that, that's all." And with this 
the worthy gentleman began rubbing delicately a 
little of the Eglantinia into those ambrosial locks, 
which he loved with all the love of a man and an 
artist 

And as for Morgiana showing her hair, I hope none of 
my readers will entertain a bad opinion of the poor 
girl for doing so. Her locks were her pride; she 
acted at the private theatre " hair parts," where she 
could appear on purpose to show them in a dishevelled 
state ; and that her modesty was real and not affected 
may be proved by the fact that when Mr. Walker, 
stepping up in the midst of Eglantine's last speech, 
took hold of a lock of her hair very gently with his 
hand, she cried "Oh!" and started with all her 
might. And Mr. Eglantine observed very gravely, 
"Capting! Miss Crump's hair is to be seen and not 
to be touched, if you please." 

" No more it is, Mr. Eglantine," said her mamma ; 
" and now, as it 's come to my turn, I beg the gentle- 
man will be so obliging as to go." 

" Must I? " cried Mr. Walker ; and as it was half- 
past six, and he was engaged to dinner at the " Re- 
gent Club," and as he did not wish to make Eglantine 
jealous, who evidently was annoyed by his staying, 
he took his hat just as Miss Crump's coiffure was 
completed, and saluting her and her mamma , left the 
room. 

" A tip-top swell, I can assure you," said Eglantine, 
nodding after him : " a regular bang-up chap, and no 



214 MEN'S WIVEa 

mistake. Intimate with the Marquis of Billingsgate! 
and Lord Vauxhall, and that set" 

"He '8 very genteel," said Mrs. Crump. 

" Law ! I 'm sure I think nothing of him," said 
Morgiana. 

And Captain Walker walked towards his club, 
meditating on the beauties of Morgiana. "What 
hair," said he, "what eyes the girl has ! they're as 
big as billiard-balls ; and £5,000, Eglantine 's in luck ! 
£5,000 — she can't have it, it 's impossible ! " 

No sooner was Mrs. Crump's front arranged, during 
the time of which operation Morgiana sat in perfect 
contentment looking at the last French fashions in 
the " Courrier des Dames," and thinking how her pink 
satin slip would dye, and make just such a mantilla 
as that represented in the engraving, — no sooner was 
Mrs. Crump's front arranged, than both ladies, taking 
leave of Mr. Eglantine, tripped back to the " Bootjack 
Hotel " in the neighborhood, where a very neat green 
fly was already in waiting, the gentleman on the box 
of which (from a livery-stable in the neighborhood) 
gave a knowing touch to his hat, and a salute with 
his whip, to the two ladies, as they entered the 
tavern. 

"Mr. W.'s inside," said the man — a driver from 
Mr. Snaffle's establishment; "he's been in and out 
this score of times, and looking down the street for 
you." And in the house, in fact, was Mr. Woolsey, 
the tailor, who had hired the fly, and was engaged 
to conduct the ladies that evening to the play. 

It was really rather too bad to think that Miss 
Morgiana, after going to one lover to have her hair 
dressed, should go with another to the play ; but such 
is the way with lovely woman 1 Let her have a dozen 
admirers, and the dear coquette will exercise her 



THE BAVENSWING. 215 

power upon them all : and as a lady, when she has 
a large wardrobe, and a taste for variety in dress, will 
appear every day in a different costume, so will the 
young and giddy beauty wear her lovers, encouraging 
now the black whiskers, now smiling on the brown, 
now thinking that the gay smiling rattle of an admirer 
becomes her very well, and now adopting the sad sen- 
timental melancholy one, according as her changeful 
fancy prompts her. Let us not be too angry with 
these uncertainties and caprices of beauty ; and de- 
pend on it that, for the most part, those females who 
cry out loudest against the flightiness of their sisters, 
and rebuke their undue encouragement of this man 
or that, would do as much themselves if they had the 
chance, and are constant, as I am to my coat just now, 
because I have no other. 

"Did you see Doubleyou, 'Gina dear?" said her 
mamma, addressing that young lady. " He f s in the 
bar with your pa, and has his military coat with the 
king's buttons, and looks like an officer." 

This was Mr. Woolsey's style, his great aim being 
to look like an army gent, for many of whom he in 
his capacity of tailor made those splendid red and 
blue coats which characterize our military. As for 
the royal button, had not he made a set of coats for 
his late Majesty, George IV. ? and he would add, 
when he narrated this circumstance, "Sir, Prince 
Blucher and Prince Swartzenberg's measure 's in the 
house now; and what's more, I've cut for Welling- 
ton." I believe he would have gone to St Helena 
to make a coat for Napoleon, so great was his ardor. 
He wore a blue-black wig, and his whiskers were of 
the same hue. He was brief and stern in conversa- 
tion ; and he always went to masquerades and balls 
in a field-marshal's uniform. 



216 MEN'S WIVE& 

"He looks really quite the thing to-night," con- 
tinued Mrs. Crump. 

" Yes," said 'Gina ; " but he 's such an odious wig, 
and the dye of his whiskers always comes off on his 
white gloves." 

"Everybody has not their own hair, lore," con- 
tinued Mrs. Crump with a sigh ; " but Eglantine's is 
beautiful." 

" Every hairdresser's is," answered Morgiana, rather 
contemptuously; "but what I can't bear is that their 
fingers is always so very fat and pudgy." 

In fact, something had gone wrong with the fair 
Morgiana. Was it that she had but little liking 
for the one pretender or the other? Was it that 
young Glauber, who acted Borneo in the private 
theatricals, was far younger and more agreeable than 
either? Or was it, that seeing a real gentleman, 
such as Mr. Walker, with whom she had had her first 
interview, she felt more and more the want of re- 
finement in her other declared admirers 1 Certain, 
however, it is, that she was very reserved all the 
evening, in spite of the attentions of Mr. Woolsey ; 
that she repeatedly looked round at the box-door, as 
if she expected some one to enter ; and that she par- 
took of only a very few oysters, indeed, out of the 
barrel which the gallant tailor had sent down to the 
" Bootjack," and off which the party supped. 

"What is it?" said Mr. Woolsey to his ally, 
Crump, as they sat together after the retirement of 
the ladies. "She was dumb all night She never 
once laughed at the farce, nor cried at the tragedy, 
and you know she laughs and cries uncommon. She 
only took half her negus, and not above a quarter of 
her beer." 

"No more she did!" replied Mr. Crump, very 



THE RAVENSWING. 217 

calmly. " I think it most be the barber as has been 
captivating her : he dressed her hair for the play." 

" Hang him, I '11 shoot him ! " said Mr. Woolsey. 
" A fat, foolish, effeminate beast like that marry Miss 
Morgiana ? Never ! I will shoot him. I '11 provoke 
him next Saturday — I '11 tread on his toe — I '11 pull 
his nose." 

"No quarrelling at the ' Kidneys'!" answered 
Crump, sternly; "there shall be no quarrelling in 
that room as long as I'm in the chair!" 

"Well, at any rate you'll stand my friend ? " 

"You know I will," answered the other. "You 
are honorable, and I like you better than Eglantine. 
I trust you more than Eglantine, sir. You 're more 
of a man than Eglantine, though you are a tailor; 
and I wish with all my heart you may get Morgiana. 
Mrs. C. goes the other way, I know : but I tell you 
what, women will go their own ways, sir, and Morgy 's 
like her mother in this point, and depend upon it, 
Morgy will decide for herself." 

Mr. Woolsey presently went home, still persisting 
in his plan for the assassination of Eglantine. Mr. 
Crump went to bed very quietly, and snored through 
the night in his usual tone. Mr. Eglantine passed 
some feverish moments of jealousy, for he had come 
down to the club in the evening, and had heard that 
Morgiana was gone to the play with his rival And 
Miss Morgiana dreamed of a man who was — must we 
say it? — exceedingly like Captain Howard Walker. 
" Mrs. Captain So-and-so ! " thought she. " Oh, I do 
love a gentleman dearly ! " 

And about this time, too, Mr. Walker himself came 
rolling home from the " Regent," hiccupping, " Such 
hair ! — such eyebrows ! — such eyes ! like b-b-billiard- 
balls, by Jove ! " 



CHAPTER II. 

IN WHICH MB. WALKER MAKE8 THREE ATTEMPTS TO 
ASCERTAIN THE DWELLING OF M ORG I ANA. 

The day after the dinner at the "Regent Club," 
Mr. Walker stepped oyer to the shop of his friend 
the perfumer, where, as usual, the young man, Mr. 
Mossrose, was established in the front premises. 

For some reason or other, the Captain was particu- 
larly good-humored; and, quite forgetful of the words 
which had passed between him and Mr. Eglantine's 
lieutenant the day before, began addressing the latter 
with extreme cordiality. 

" A good morning to you, Mr. Mossrose/' said Cap- 
tain Walker. " Why, sir, you look as fresh as your 
namesake, — you do, indeed, now, Mossrose." 

"You look ash yellow ash a guinea," responded Mr. 
Mossrose, sulkily. He thought the Captain was 
hoaxing him. 

"My good sir," replies the other, nothing east 
down, "I drank rather too freely last night" 

" The more beast you ! " said Mr. Mossrose. 

" Thank you, Mossrose ; the same to you," answered 
the Captain. 

" If you call me a beast I '11 punch your head off ! " 
answered the young man, who had much skill in the 
art which many of his brethren practise. 

" I did n't, my fine fellow," replied Walker. « On 
the contrary, you — " 



THE BAVENSWING. 219 

« Do you mean to give me the lie ? " broke out the 
indignant Mossrose, who hated the agent fiercely, and 
did not in the least care to conceal his hate. 

In fact, it was his fixed purpose to pick a quarrel 
with Walker, and to drive him, if possible, from Mr. 
Eglantine's shop. " Do you mean to give me the lie, 
I say, Mr. Hooker Walker ? " 

" For Heaven's sake, Amos, hold your tongue ! " ex- 
claimed the Captain, to whom the name of Hooker 
was as poison : but at this moment a customer step- 
ping in, Mr. Amos exchanged his ferocious aspect 
for a bland grin, and Mr. Walker walked into the 
studio. 

When in Mr. Eglantine's presence, Walker, too, 
was all smiles in a minute, sunk down on a settee, 
held out his hand to the perfumer, and began confi- 
dentially discoursing with him. 

"Such a dinner, Tiny my boy," said he; "such 
prime fellows to eat it, too ! Billingsgate, Vauxhall, 
Cinqbars, Buff of the Blues, and half a dozen more of 
the best fellows in town. And what do you think the 
dinner cost a head ? I '11 wager you 11 never guess." 

"Was it two guineas a head ? — In course I mean 
without wine," said the genteel perfumer. 

" Guess again ! " 

" Well, was it ten guineas a head ? I '11 guess any 
sum you please," replied Mr. Eglantine : " for I know 
that when you nobs are together, you don't spare your 
money. I myself, at the 'Star and Garter,' at Rich- 
mond, once paid — " 

"Eighteenpence?" 

" Heighteenpence, sir ! — I paid five-and-thirty shil- 
lings per 'ead. I 'd have you to know that I can act 
as a gentleman as well as any other gentleman, sir," 
anawered the perfumer with much dignity. 



220 MEN'S WIVEa 

"Well, eighteenpence was what we paid, and not 
a rap more upon my honor." 

"Nonsense, you're joking. The Marquis of Bill- 
ingsgate dine for eighteenpence ? Why, hang it, if 
I was a marquis, I 'd pay a five-pound note for my 
lunch." 

"You little know the person, Master Eglantine," 
replied the Captain, with a smile of contemptuous 
superiority ; " you little know the real man of fash- 
ion, my good fellow. Simplicity, sir, — simplicity 's 
the characteristic of the real gentleman, and so I '11 
tell you what we had for dinner." 

"Turtle and venison, of course: — no nob dines 
without them." 

"Psha! we're sick of 'em ! We had pearsoup and 
boiled tripe! What do you think of that? We 
had sprats and herrings, a bullock's heart, a baked 
shoulder of mutton and potatoes, pig's-fry and Irish 
stew. I ordered the dinner, sir, and got more credit 
for inventing it than they ever gave to Ude or Soyer. 
The Marquis was in ecstasies, the Earl devoured half 
a bushel of sprats, and if the Viscount is not laid up 
with a surfeit of bullock's heart, my name's not 
Howard Walker. Billy, as I call him, was in the 
chair, and gave my health; and what do you think 
the rascal proposed?" 

" What d id his lordship propose ? " 

"That every man present should subscribe two- 
pence, and pay for my share of the dinner. By 
Jove ! it is true, and the money was handed to me 
in a pewter-pot, of which they also begged to make 
me a present. We afterwards went to Tom Spring's, 
from Tom's to the « Finish,' from the l Finish ' to the 
watch-house — that is, they did, — and sent for me, 
just as I was getting into bed, to bail them all out" 



THE RAVENSWING. 221 

" They 're happy dogs, those young noblemen," said 
Mr. Eglantine ; " nothing but pleasure from morning 
till night; no affectation neither, — no hoture ; but 
manly, downright, straightforward good .fellows." 

" Should you like to meet them, Tiny my boy ? " 
said the Captain. 

" If I did, sir, I hope I should show myself to be 
the gentleman," answered Mr. Eglantine. 

"Well, you shall meet them, and Lady Billings- 
gate shall order her perfumes at your shop. We are 
going to dine, next week, all our set, at mealy-faced 
Bob's, and you shall be my guest," cried the Captain, 
slapping the delighted artist on the back. And now, 
my boy, tell me how you spent the evening." 

" At my club, sir," answered Mr. Eglantine, blush- 
ing rather. 

" What ! not at the play with the lovely black-eyed 
Miss — What is her name, Eglantine ? " 

"Never mind her name, Captain," replied Eglan- 
tine, partly from prudence and partly from shame. 
He had not the heart to own it was Crump, and he 
did not care that the Captain should know more of 
his destined bride. 

" You wish to keep the five thousand to yourself — 
eh, you rogue ? " responded the Captain, with a good- 
humored air, although exceedingly mortified ; for, to 
say the truth, he had put himself to the trouble of 
telling the above long story of the dinner, and of 
promising to introduce Eglantine to the lords, solely 
that he might elicit from that gentleman's good- 
humor some further particulars regarding the young 
lady with the billiard-ball eyes. It was for the very 
same reason, too, that he had made the attempt at 
reconciliation with Mr. Mossrose which had just so 
signally failed. Nor would the reader, did he know 



222 MEN'S WIVES. 

Mr. W. better, at all require to have the above ex- 
planation ; but as yet we are only at the first chapter 
of his history, and who is to know what the hero's 
motives can be unless we take the trouble to 
explain ? 

Well, the little, dignified answer of the worthy 
dealer in bergamot, "Never mind her name, Cap- 
tain/" threw the gallant Captain quite aback; and 
though he sat for a quarter of an hour longer, and 
was exceedingly kind ; and though he threw out some 
skilful hints, yet the perfumer was quite unconquer- 
able ; or, rather, he was too frightened to tell : the 
poor, fat, timid, easy, good-natured gentleman was 
always the prey of rogues, — panting and floundering 
in one rascal's snare or another's. He had the dis- 
simulation, too, which timid men have ; and felt the 
presence of a victimizer as a hare does of a grey- 
hound. Now he would be quite still, now he would 
double, and now he would run, and then came the 
end. He knew, by his sure instinct of fear, that the 
Captain had, in asking these questions, a scheme 
against him, and so he was cautious, and trembled, 
and doubted. And oh! how he thanked his stars 
when Lady Grogmore's chariot drove up, with the 
Misses Grogmore, who wanted their hair dressed, 
and were going to a breakfast at three o'clock! 

"Ill look in again, Tiny," said the Captain, on 
hearing the summons. 

"Do, Captain," replied the other: "thank you;" 
and went into the lady's studio with a heavy heart 

" Get out of the way, you infernal villain ! " roared 
the Captain, with many oaths, to Lady Grogmore's 
large footman, with ruby-colored tights, who was 
standing inhaling the ten thousand perfumes of the 
shop; and the latter, moving away in great terror, 



THE BAVENSWINQ. 223 

the gallant agent passed out, quite heedless of the 
grin of Mr. Mossrose. 

Walker was in a fury at his want of success, and 
walked down Bond Street in a fury. " I will know 
where the girl lives ! " swore he. " I '11 spend a five- 
pound note, by Jove! rather than not know where 
she lives!" 

" That you would — J know you would!" said a 
little grave low voice, all of a sudden, by his side. 
"Pooh! what's money to you?" 

Walker looked down ; it was Tom Dale. 

Who in London did not know little Tom Dale ? He 
had cheeks like an apple, and his hair curled every 
morning, and a little blue stock, and always two new 
magazines under his arm, and an umbrella and a 
little brown frock-coat, and big square-toed shoes with 
which he went papping down the street. He was 
everywhere at once. Everybody met him every day, 
and he knew everything that everybody ever did; 
though nobody ever knew what he did. He was, they 
say, a hundred years old, and had never dined at his 
own charge once in those hundred years. He looked 
like a figure out of a wax-work, with glassy, clear, 
meaningless eyes : he always spoke with a grin ; he 
knew what you had for dinner the day before he met 
you, and what everybody had had for dinner for a 
century back almost. He was the receptable of all 
the scandal of all the world, from Bond Street to 
Bread Street ; he knew all the authors, all the actors, 
all the "notorieties" of the town, and the private 
histories of each. That is, he never knew anything 
really, but supplied deficiencies of truth and memory, 
with ready-coined, never-failing lies. He was the 
most benevolent man in the universe, and never saw 
you without telling you everything most cruel of your 



224 MEN'S WIVES. 

neighbor, and when he left you he went to do the 
same kind turn by yourself. 

"Pooh! what's money to you, my dear boy ?" said 
little Tom Dale, who had just come out of Ebers's, 
where he had been filching an opera-ticket. "You 
make it in bushels in the City, you know you do — in 
thousands. I saw you go into Eglantine's. Fine 
business that ; finest in London. Five-shilling cakes 
of soap, my dear boy. I can't wash with such. 
Thousands a year that man has made — has n't he ? " 

"Upon my word, Tom, I don't know," says the 
Captain. 

" You not know ? Don't tell me. You know every- 
thing — you agents. You know he makes five thou- 
sand a year, — ay, and might make ten, but you know 
why he don't" 

" Indeed I don't" 

"Nonsense. Don't humbug a poor old fellow like 
me. Jews — Amos — fifty per cent, ay ? Why can't 
he get his money from a good Christian?" 

"I have heard something of that sort," said 
Walker, laughing. "Why, by Jove, Tom, you know 
everything I " 

" You know everything, my dear boy. You know 
what a rascally trick that opera creature served him, 
poor fellow. Cashmere shawls — Storr and Morti- 
mer's — Star and Garter. Much better dine quiet off 
pea-soup and sprats, — ay ? His betters have, as you 
know very well." 

" Pea-soup and sprats ! What ! have you heard of 
that already ? " 

"Who bailed Lord Billingsgate, ay, you rogue?" 
and here Tom gave a knowing and almost demoniacal 
grin. " Who would n't go to the ' Finish ' ? Who had 
the piece of plate presented to him filled with sover- 



THE RAVENSWING. 225 

eigns? And you deserved it, my dear boy — you 
deserved it They said it was only halfpence, but I 
know better ! " and here Tom went off in a cough. 

"I say, Tom," cried Walker, inspired with a 
sudden thought, "you, who know everything, and are 
a theatrical man, did you ever know a Miss Delancy, 
an actress ? " 

"At 'Sadler's Wells 'in '16? Of course I did. Real 
name was Budge. Lord Slapper admired her very 
much, my dear boy. She married a man by the name 
of Crump, his Lordship's black footman, and brought 
him five thousand pounds ; and they keep the ' Boot- 
jack ' public-house in Bunker's Buildings, and they've 
got fourteen children. Is one of them handsome, eh, 
you sly rogue, — and is it that which you will give 
five pounds to know ? God bless you, my dear, dear 
boy. Jones, my dear friend, how are you ? " 

And now, seizing on Jones, Tom Dale left Mr. 
Walker alone, and proceeded to pour into Mr. Jones's 
ear an account of the individual whom he had just 
quitted ; how he was the best fellow in the world, and 
Jones knew it ; how he was in a fine way of making 
his fortune; how he had been in the Fleet many 
times, and how he was at this moment employed in 
looking out for a young lady of whom a certain 
great marquis (whom Jones knew very well too) had 
expressed an admiration. 

But for these observations, which he did not hear, 
Captain Walker, it may be pronounced, did not care. 
His eyes brightened up, he marched quickly and 
gayly away ; and turning into his own chambers op- 
posite Eglantine's shop, saluted that establishment 
with a grin of triumph. " You wouldn't tell me her 
name, would n't you ? " said Mr. Walker. " Well, the 
luck 's with me now, and here goes." 
vol. xxix.— 15 



I 



226 MEN'S WIVES. 

Two days after, as Mr. Eglantine, with white gloves 
and a case of eau-de-Cologne as a present in his 
pocket, arrived at the " Bootjack Hotel," Little Bun- 
ker's Buildings, Berkeley Square (for it must out — 
that was the place in which Mr. Crump's inn was 
situated), he paused for a moment at the threshold 
of the little house of entertainment, and listened, 
with beating heart, to the sound of delicious music 
that a well-known voice was uttering within. 

The moon was playing in silvery brightness down 
the gutter of the humble street A " helper," rubbing 
down one of Lady Smigsmag's carriage-horses, even 
paused in his whistle to listen to the strain. Mr. 
Tressle's man, who had been professionally occupied, 
ceased his tap-tap upon the coffin which he was get- 
ting in readiness. The greengrocer (there is always 
a greengrocer in those narrow streets, and he goes 
out in white Berlin gloves as a supernumerary foot- 
man) was standing charmed at his little green gate : 
the cobbler (there is always a cobbler too) was drunk, 
as usual, of evenings, but, with unusual subordination, 
never sung except when the refrain of the ditty ar- 
rived, when he hiccupped it forth with tipsy loyalty; 
and Eglantine leaned against the checkers painted on 
the doorside under the name of Crump, and looked at 
the red illumined curtain of the bar, and the vast, 
well-known shadow of Mrs. Crump's turban within. 
Now and again the shadow of that worthy matron's 
hand would be seen to grasp the shadow of a bottle ; 
then the shadow of a cup would rise towards the 
turban, and still the strain proceeded. Eglantine, I 
say, took out his yellow bandanna, and brushed the 
beady drops from his brow, and laid the contents of 
his white kids on his heart, and sighed with ecstatic 
sympathy. The song began, — 



THE RAVENSWING. 227 

•« Come to the greenwood tree, 1 
Come where the dark woods be, 
Dearest, O come with me ! 
Let us rove — O my love — O my love ! 

O my-y love ! 
(Drunken Cobbler without)— O my-y love ! 

" Beast I" says Eglantine. 

" Come — 'tis the moonlight hour, 

Dew is on leaf and flower, 

Come to the linden bower, — 

Let us rove — O my love — O my love ! 

Let us ro-o-ove, lurlurliety ; yes, we '11 rove, lurlurliety, 

Through the gro-o-ove, lurlurliety — lurlurli-e-i-e-i-e-i 1 

(Cobbler a* usual) — Let us ro-o-ove," etc. 

" You here ? " says another individual, coming 
clinking up the street, in a military-cut dress-coat, the 
buttons whereof shone very bright in the moonlight. 
" You here, Eglantine ? — You 're always here." 

" Hush, Woolsey," said Mr. Eglantine to his rival 
the tailor (for he was the individual in question) ; 
and Woolsey, accordingly, put his back against the 
opposite door-post and checkers, so that (with poor 
Eglantine's bulk) nothing much thicker than a sheet 
of paper could pass out or in. And thus these two 
amorous caryatides kept guard as the song con- 
tinued : — 

" Dark is the wood, and wide, 
Dangers, they say, betide ; 
But, at my Albert's side, 
Nought I fear, O my love — O my love ! 

" Welcome the greenwood tree, 
Welcome the forest tree, 
Dearest, with. thee, with thee, 
Nought I fear, O my love — O ma-a-y love! n 

1 The words of this song are copyright, nor will the copyright 
be sold for leas than twopence-halfpenny. 



228 MEN'S WIVES. 

Eglantine's fine eyes were filled with tears as Mor- 
giana passionately uttered the above beautiful words. 
Little Woolsey'a eyes glistened, as he clenched his 
fist with an oath, and said, " Show me any singing 
that can beat that. Cobbler, shut your mouth, or I '11 
break your head ! " 

But the cobbler, regardless of the threat, continued 
to perform the " Lurlurliety," with great accuracy; 
and when that was ended, both on his part and Mor- 
giana's, a rapturous knocking of glasses was heard in 
the little bar, then a great clapping of hands, and 
finally, somebody shouted " Brava/" 

"Brava!" 

At that word Eglantine turned deadly pale, then 
gave a start, then a rush forward, which pinned, or 
rather cushioned, the tailor against the wall; then 
twisting himself abruptly round, he sprung to the 
door of the bar, and bounced into that apartment. 

" How are you, my nosegay ? " exclaimed the same 
voice which had shouted "Brava." It was that of 
Captain Walker. 

At ten o'clock the next morning, a gentleman, with 
the King's button on his military coat, walked ab- 
ruptly into Mr. Eglantine's shop, and, turning on Mr. 
Mossrose, said, "Tell your master I want to see him." 

" He 's in his studio," said Mr. Mossrose. 

"Well, then, fellow, go and fetch him ! " 

And Mossrose, thinking it must be the Lord Cham- 
berlain, or Doctor Praetorius at least, walked into the 
studio, where the perfumer was seated in a very 
glossy old silk dressing-gown, his fair hair hanging 
over his white face, his double chin over his flaccid, 
whity-brown shirt-collar, his pea-green slippers on 
the hob, and, on the fire, the pot of chocolate which 
was simmering for his breakfast. A lazier fellow 
than poor Eglantine it would be hard to find ; where- 



THE RAVENSWING. 229 

as, on the contrary, Woolsey was always np and 
brushed, spick-and-span, at seven o'clock; and had 
gone through his books, and given out the work for 
the journeymen, and eaten a hearty breakfast of 
rashers of bacon, before Eglantine had put the usual 
pound of grease to his hair (his fingers were always 
as damp and shiny as if he had them in a pomatum- 
pot), and arranged his figure for the day. 

" Here 's a gent wants you in the shop," says Mr. 
Mossrose, leaving the door of communication wide 
open. 

" Say I 'm in bed, Mr. Mossrose ; I 'm out of sper- 
rets, and really can see nobody." 

" It *s some one from Vindsor, I think ; he 's got the 
royal button," says Mossrose. 

"It 's me — Woolsey," shouted the little man from 
the shop. 

Mr. Eglantine at this jumped up, made a rush to 
the door leading to his private apartment, and dis- 
appeared in a twinkling. But it must not be imagined 
that he fled in order to avoid Mr. Woolsey. He only 
went away for one minute just to put on his belt, for 
he was ashamed to be seen without it by his rival 

This being assumed, and his toilet somewhat ar- 
ranged, Mr. Woolsey was admitted into his private 
room. And Mossrose would have heard every word 
of the conversation between those two gentlemen, 
had not Woolsey, opening the door, suddenly pounced 
on the asistant, taken him by the collar, and told him 
to disappear altogether into the shop : which Moss- 
rose did; vowing he would have his revenge. 

The subject on which Woolsey had come to treat 
was an important one. "Mr. Eglantine," says he, 
" there's no use disguising from one another that 
we are both of us in love with Miss Morgiana, and 



230 MEN'S WIVES. 

that our chances up to this time have been pretty 
equal. But that Captain whom you introduced, like 
an ass as you were — " 

" An ass, Mr. Woolsey ? I 'd have you to know, 
sir, that I 'm no more a hass than you are, sir ; and as 
for introducing the Captain, I did no such thing." 

" Well, well, he 's got a-poaching into our preserves 
somehow. He's evidently sweet upon the young 
woman, and is a more fashionable chap than either 
of us two. We must get him out of the house, sir 
— we must circumwent him ; and then, Mr. Eglan- 
tine, will be time enough for you and me to try 
which is the best man." 

"He the best man!" thought Eglantine; "the 
little, bald, unsightly tailor-creature ! A man with 
no more soul than his smoothing-hiron ! " The per- 
fumer, as may be imagined, did not utter this senti- 
ment aloud, but expressed himself quite willing to 
enter into any hamicable arrangement, by which the 
new candidate for Miss Crump's favor must be 
thrown over. It was, accordingly, agreed between 
the two gentlemen that they should coalesce against 
the common enemy ; that they should, by reciting 
many perfectly well-founded stories in the Captain's 
disfavor, influenpe the minds of Miss Crump's par- 
ents, and of herself, if possible, against this wolf 
in sheep's clothing ; and that, when they were once 
fairly rid of him, each should be at liberty, as before, 
to prefer his own claim. 

" I have thought of a subject," said the little tailor, 
turning very red, and hemming and hawing a great 
deal "I've thought, I say, of a pint, which may 
be resorted to with advantage at the present juncture, 
and in which each of us may be useful to the other. 
An exchange, Mr. Eglantine ; do you take ? " 



THE BAVENSWING. 231 

" Do yon mean an accommodation-bill ? " said Eglan- 
tine, whose mind ran a good deal on that species of 
exchange. 

"Pooh, nonsense, sir! The name of our firm is, 
I flatter myself, a little more np in the market than 
some other people's names." 

"Do you mean to insult the name of Archibald 
Eglantine, sir ? I M have you to know that at three 
months — " 

"Nonsense I" says Mr. Woolsey, mastering his 
emotion. "There's no use a-quarrelling, Mr. E.: 
we're not in love with each other, I know that 
You wish me hanged, or as good, I know that ! " 

"Indeed I don't, sir!" 

"You do, sir ; I tell you, you do ! and what's more, 
I wish the same to you — transported, at any rate ! 
But as two sailors, when a boat 's a-sinking, though 
they hate each other ever so much, will help and bale 
the boat out; so, sir, let us act: let us be the two 
sailors." 

"Bail, sir?" said Eglantine, as usual mistaking 
the drift of the argument. " I '11 bail no man ! If 
you're in difficulties, I think you had better go to 
your senior partner, Mr. Woolsey." And Eglantine's 
cowardly little soul was filled with a savage satisfac- 
tion to think that his enemy was in distress, and 
actually obliged to come to him for succor. 

"You're enough to make Job swear, you great fat 
stupid lazy old barber!" roared Mr. Woolsey, in a 
fury. 

Eglantine jumped up and made for the bell-rope. 
The gallant little tailor laughed. 

" There 's no need to call in Betsy," said he. " I 'm 
not a-going to eat you, Eglantine; you're a bigger 
man than me: if you were just to fall on me, you'd 



232 MEN'S WIVES. 

smother me ! Just sit still on the sofa and listen to 
reason." 

" Well, sir, pro-ceed," said the barber with a gasp. 

"Now, listen! What's the darling wish of your 
heart ? I know it, sir ! you 've told it to Mr. Tressle, 
sir, and other gents at the club. The darling wish of 
your heart, sir, is to have a slap-up coat turned out of 
the ateliers of Messrs. Linsey, Woolsey, and Company. 
You said you'd give twenty guineas for one of our 
coats, you know you did ! Lord Bolsterton 's a fatter 
man than you, and look what a figure we turn him 
out. Can any firm in England dress Lord Bolsterton 
but us, so as to make his lordship look decent ? I 
defy 'em, sir ! We could have given Daniel Lambert 
a figure!" 

" If I want a coat, sir," says Mr. Eglantine, " and 
I don't deny it, there 's some people want a head of 
hair/ 99 

"That '8 the very point I was coming to," said the 
tailor, resuming the violent blush which was men- 
tioned as having suffused his countenance at the 
beginning of the conversation. " Let us have terms 
of mutual accommodation. Make me a wig, Mr. 
Eglantine, and though I never yet cut a yard of cloth 
except for a gentleman, I '11 pledge you my word 1 11 
make you a coat." 

" Will you, honor bright ? " says Eglantine. 

" Honor bright," says the tailor. " Look ! " and in 
an instant he drew from his pocket one of those slips 
of parchment which gentlemen of his profession 
carry, and putting Eglantine into the proper position, 
began to take the preliminary observations. He felt 
Eglantine's heart thump with happiness as his meas- 
ure passed over that soft part of the perfumer's 
person. 



TIIE BAVENSWING. 233 

Then prilling down the window-blind, and looking 
that the door was locked, and blushing still more 
deeply than ever, the tailor seated himself in an arm- 
chair towards which Mr. Eglantine beckoned him, 
and, taking off his black wig, exposed his head to the 
great perruquier's gaze. Mr. Eglantine looked at it, 
measured it, manipulated it, sat for three minutes 
with his head in his hand and his elbow on his knee 
gazing at the tailor's cranium with all his might, 
walked round it twice or thrice, and then said, " It y s 
enough, Mr. Woolsey. Consider the job as done. 
And now, sir," said he, with a greatly relieved air — 
" and now, Woolsey, let us 'ave a glass of curagoa to 
celebrate this hauspicious meeting.' 9 

The tailor, however, stiffly replied that he never 
drank in a morning, and left the room without offer- 
ing to shake Mr. Eglantine by the hand: for he 
despised that gentleman very heartily, and himself, 
too, for coming to any compromise with him, and for 
so far demeaning himself as to make a coat for a 
barber. 

Looking from his chambers on the other side of 
the street, that inevitable Mr. Walker saw the tailor 
issuing from the perfumer's shop, and was at no loss 
to guess that something extraordinary must be in pro- 
gress when two such bitter enemies met together. 



CHAPTEB III. 

WHAT CAMS OF MB. WALKEB'S DI8C0VEBY OF 
THE "BOOTJACK." 

It is very easy to state how the Captain came 
to take up that proud position at the "Bootjack" 
which we have seen him occupy on the evening when 
the sound of the fatal "brava" so astonished Mr. 
Eglantine. 

The mere entry into the establishment was, of 
course, not difficult Any person by simply uttering 
the words, "A pint of beer," was free of the "Boot- 
jack ; " and it was some such watchword that Howard 
Walker employed when he made his first appearance. 
He requested to be shown into a parlor where he 
might repose himself for a while, and was ushered 
into that very sanctum where the "Kidney Club" 
met Then he stated that the beer was the best he 
had ever tasted, except in Bavaria, and in some parts 
of. Spain, he added ; and professing to be extremely 
" peckish," requested to know if there were any cold 
meat in the house whereof he could make a dinner. 

" I don't usually dine at this hour, landlord," said 
he, flinging down a half-sovereign for payment of the 
beer ; " but your parlor looks so comfortable and the 
Windsor chairs are so snug, that I 'm sure I could not 
dine better at the first club in London." 

" One of the first clubs in London is held in this 
very room," said Mr. Crump, very well pleased; " and 







Not altogether unexpected. 



I THE-F'~V.' v '.'•". 
'PUBLIC LILKARY 



ASTOR. '-FNOX 
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS^ 



THB RAVENSWING. 236 

attended by some of the best gents in town, too. We 
call it the < Kidney Club.' " 

" Why, bless my soul I it is the very club my friend 
Eglantine has so often talked to me about, and at- 
tended by some of the tip-top tradesmen of the 
metropolis ! " 

"There's better men here than Mr. Eglantine," 
replied Mr. Crump ; " though he 's a good man — I 
don't say he's not a good man — but there's better. 
Mr. Clinker, sir ; Mr. Woolsey, of the house of Linsey, 
Woolsey and Co — " 

"The great army-clothiers!" cried Walker; "the 
first house in town ! " and so continued, with exceed- 
ing urbanity, holding conversation with Mr. Crump, 
until the honest landlord retired delighted, and told 
Mrs. Crump in the bar that there was a tip-top swell 
in the " Kidney " parlor, who was a-going to have his 
dinner there. 

Fortune favored thet .brave Captain in every way. 
It was just Mr. Crump's own dinner-hour; and on 
Mrs. Crump stepping into the parlor to ask the guest 
whether he would like a slice of the joint to which 
the family were about to sit down, fancy that lady's 
start of astonishment at recognizing Mr. Eglantine's 
facetious friend of the day before. The Captain at 
once demanded permission to partake of the joint at 
the family table ; the lady could not with any great 
reason deny this request; the Captain was inducted 
into the bar; and Miss Crump, who always came 
down late for dinner, was even more astonished than 
her mamma on beholding the occupier of the fourth 
place at the table. Had she expected to see the fas- 
cinating stranger so soon again? I think she had. 
Her big eyes said as much, as, furtively looking up at 
Mr. Walker's face, they caught his looks ; and then 



236 MEN'S WIVEa 

bouncing down again towards her plate, pretended to 
be very busy in looking at the boiled beef and carrots 
there displayed. She blushed far redder than those 
carrots, but her shining ringlets hid her confusion 
together with her lovely face. 

Sweet Morgiana ! the billiard-ball eyes had a tre- 
mendous effect on the Captain. They fell plump, as 
it were, into the pocket of his heart ; and he gallantly 
proposed to treat the company to a bottle of cham- 
pagne, which was accepted without much difficulty. 

Mr. Crump, under pretence of going to the cellar 
(where he said he had some cases of the finest cham- 
pagne in Europe), called Dick, the boy, to him, and 
despatched him with all speed to a wine-merchant's, 
where a couple of bottles of the liquor were procured. 

"Bring up two bottles, Mr. C," Captain Walker 
gallantly said when Crump made his move, as it were, 
to the cellar ; and it may be imagined after the two 
bottles were drunk (of which Mrs. Crump took at 
least nine glasses to her share), how happy, merry, 
and confidential the whole party had become. Crump 
told his story of the "Bootjack," and whose boot it 
had drawn ; the former Miss Delancy expatiated on 
her past theatrical life, and the pictures hanging 
round the room. Miss was equally communicative; 
and, in short, the Captain had all the secrets of the 
little family in his possession ere sunset He knew 
that Miss cared little for either of her suitors, about 
whom mamma and papa had a little quarrel. He 
heard Mrs. Crump talk of Morgiana's property, and 
fell more in love with her than ever. Then came tea, 
the luscious crumpet, the quiet game at cribbage, and 
the song — the song which poor Eglantine heard, and 
which caused Woolsey's rage and his despair. 

At the close of the evening the tailor was in a 



THE BAVENSWING. 887 

greater rage, and the perfumer in greater despair than 
ever. He had made his little present of eau-de- 
Cologne. " Oh fie ! " says the Captain, with a horse- 
laugh, " it smells of the shop ! " He taunted the tailor 
about his wig, and the honest fellow had only an oath 
to give by way of repartee. He told his stories about 
his club and his lordly friends. What chance had 
either against the all-accomplished Howard Walker ? 

Old Crump, with a good innate sense of right and 
wrong, hated the man ; Mrs. Crump did not feel quite 
at her ease regarding him ; but Morgiana thought him 
the most delightful person the world ever produced. 

Eglantine's usual morning costume was a blue satin 
neck-cloth embroidered with butterflies and orna- 
mented with a brandy-ball brooch, a light shawl 
waistcoat, and a rhubarb-colored coat of the sort 
which, I believe, are called Taglionis, and which have 
no waist-buttons, and make a pretence, as it were, to 
have no waists, but are in reality adopted by the fat 
in order to give them a waist Nothing easier for an 
obese man than to have a waist : he has but to pinch 
his middle part a little and the very fat on either side 
pushed violently forward makes a waist, as it were, 
and our worthy perfumer's figure was that of a bolster 
cut almost in two with a string. 

Walker presently saw him at his shop-door grinning 
in this costume, twiddling his ringlets with his dumpy 
greasy fingers, glittering with oil and rings, and look- 
ing so exceedingly contented and happy that the estate- 
agent felt assured some very satisfactory conspiracy 
had been planned between the tailor and him. How 
was Mr. Walker to learn what the scheme was ? Alas ! 
the poor fellow's vanity and delight were such, that 
he could not keep silent as to the cause of his satis- 
faction, and rather than not mention it at all, in the 



238 MEN'S WIVES. 

f illness of his heart he would have told his secret to 
Mr. Mossrose himself. 

"When I get my coat," thought the Bond Street 
Alnaschar, "I '11 hire of Snaffle that easy-going cream- 
colored 'oss that he bought from Astley's and I'll 
canter through the Park, and won't I pass through 
Little Bunker's Buildings, that's all ? I'll wear my 
gray trousers with the velvet stripe down the side, and 
get my spurs lacquered up, and a French polish to my 
boot; and if I don't do for the Captain and the tailor 
too, my name 's not Archibald. And I know what I '11 
do: I'll hire the small Clarence, and invite the 
Crumps to dinner at the ' Gar and Starter ' " (this was 
his facetious way of calling the "Star and Garter"), 
"and I'll ride by them all the way to Richmond. 
It '8 rather a long ride, but with Snaffle's soft saddle 
I can do it pretty easy, I dare say." And so the hon- 
est fellow built castles upon castles in the air ; and 
the last most beautiful vision of all was Miss Crump 
" in white satting, with a horange flower in her 'air," 
putting him in possession of " her lovely 'and before 
the haltar of St. George's, 'Anover Square." As for 
Woolsey, Eglantine determined that he should have 
the best wig his art could produce ; for he had not 
the least fear of his rival. 

These points then being arranged to the poor fellow's 
satisfaction, what does he do but send out for half a 
quire of pink note-paper, and in a filigree envelope 
despatch a note of invitation to the ladies at the 
"Bootjack:" — 

"Boweb Of Bloom, Bond Street, 
"Thursday. 

44 Mr. Archibald Eglantine presents his compliments to Mrs. 
and Miss Crump, and requests the honor and pleasure of 



THE BAVENSW1NG. 239 

their company at the ' Star and Garter ' at Richmond to an 
early dinner on Sunday next. 

u If agreeable, Mr. Eglantine's carriage will be at your door at 
three o'clock, and I propose to accompany them on horseback 
if agreeable likewise." 

This note was sealed with yellow wax, and sent to 
its destination; and of course Mr. Eglantine went 
himself for the answer in the evening : and of course 
he told the ladies to look out for a certain new coat he 
was going to sport on Sunday; and of course Mr. 
Walker happens to call the next day with spare tickets 
for Mrs. Crump and her daughter, when the whole se- 
cret was laid bare to him, — how the ladies were go- 
ing to Richmond on Sunday in Mr. Snaffle's Clarence 
and how Mr. Eglantine was to ride by their side. 

Mr. Walker did not keep horses of his own; his 
magnificent friends at the "Regent" had plenty in 
their stables, and some of these were at livery at the 
establishment of the Captain's old "college" com- 
panion, Mr. Snaffle. It was easy, therefore, for the 
Captain to renew his acquaintance with that individual. 
So, hanging on the arm of my Lord Vauxhall, 
Captain Walker next day made his appearance at 
Snaffle's livery-stables, and looked at the various 
horses there for sale or at bait, and soon managed, by 
putting some facetious questions to Mr. Snaffle regard- 
ing the "Kidney Club," etc., to place himself on a 
friendly footing with that gentleman, and to learn 
from him what horse Mr. Eglantine was to ride on 
Sunday. 

The monster Walker had fully determined in his 
mind that Eglantine should fall off that horse in the 
course of his Sunday's ride. 

" That singular hanimal," said Mr. Snaffle, pointing 
to the old horse, "is the celebrated Hemperor that 



240 HEN'S WIVES. 

was the wonder of Hastley's some years back, and was 
parted with by Mr. Ducrow honly because his feelin's 
would n't allow him to keep him no longer after the 
death of the first Mrs. D., who invariably rode him. 
I bought him, thinking that p'raps ladies and Cock- 
ney bucks might like to ride him (for his haction is 
wonderful, and he canters like a harm-chair); but 
he's not safe on any day except Sundays. 

" And why 's that ? " asked Captain Walker. « Why 
is he safer on Sundays than other days ? " 

" Because there '* no music in the streets on Sundays. 
The first gent that rode him found himself dancing a 
quadrille in Hupper Brook Street to an 'urdy-gurdy 
that was playing 'Cherry Ripe,' such is the natur of 
the hanimal. And if you reklect the play of the 
' Battle of Hoysterlitz,' in which Mrs. D. hacted ' the 
female hussar,' you may remember how she and the 
horse died in the third act to the toon of 'God pre- 
serve the Emperor,' from which this horse took his 
name. Only play that toon to him, and he rears his- 
self up, beats the hair in time with his forelegs, and 
then sinks gently to the ground as though he were 
carried off by a cannon-ball. He served a lady hoppo- 
site Hapsley Ouse so one day, and since then I ' ve never 
let him out to a friend except on Sunday, when, in 
course, there's no danger. Heglantine is a friend of 
mine, and of course I would n't put the poor fellow on 
a hanimal I could n't trust." 

After a little more conversation, my lord and his 
friend quitted Mr. Snaffle's, and as they walked away 
towards the " Regent," his lordship might be heard 
shrieking with laughter, crying, " Capital, by jingo ! 
exthlent ! Dwive down in the dwag ! Take Lungly. 
Worth a thousand pound, by Jove!" and similar 
ejaculations, indicative of exceeding delight 



THE RAVENSWING. 241 

On Saturday morning, at ten o'clock to a moment. 
Mr. Woolsey called at Mr. Eglantine's with a yellow 
handkerchief under his arm. It contained the best 
and handsomest bodycoat that ever gentleman put 
on. It fitted Eglantine to a nicety — it did not pinch 
him in the least, and yet it was of so exquisite a cut 
that the perfumer found, as he gazed delighted in the 
glass, that he looked like a manly, portly, high-bred 
gentleman — a lieutenant-colonel in the army, at the 
very least. 

" You 're a full man, Eglantine," said the tailor, de- 
lighted, too, with his own work ; " but that can't be 
helped. You look more like Hercules than Falstaff 
now, sir; and if a coat can make a gentleman, a gen- 
tleman you are. Let me recommend you to sink the 
blue cravat, and take the stripes off your trousers. 
Dress quiet, sir ; draw it mild. Plain waistcoat, dark 
trousers, black neck-cloth, black hat, and if there 's a 
better-dressed man in Europe to-morrow I 'm a Dutch- 
man." 

"Thank you, Woolsey — thank you, my dear sir," 
said the charmed perfumer. "And now I'll just 
trouble you to try on this here." 

The wig had been made with equal skill ; it was 
not in the florid style which Mr. Eglantine loved in 
his own person, but, as the perfumer said, a simple, 
straightforward head of hair. " It seems as if it had 
grown there all your life, Mr. Woolsey ; nobody would 
tell that it was not your nat'ral color " (Mr. Woolsey 
blushed) — " it makes you look ten year younger ; 
and as for that scarecrow yonder, you'll never, I 
think, want to wear that again." 

Woolsey looked in the glass, and was delighted too. 
The two rivals shook hands and straightway became 
friends, and in the overflowing of his heart the per- 
YOL. xxix. — 16 



242 MEN'S WIVES. 

fumer mentioned to the tailor the party which he had 
arranged for the next day, and offered him a seat in 
the carriage and at the dinner at the " Star and Gar- 
ter." " Would you like to ride ? " said Eglantine, 
with rather a consequential air. " Snaffle will mount 
you, and we can go one on each side of the ladies, if 
you like." 

But Woolsey humbly said he was not a riding man, 
and gladly consented to take a place in the Clarence 
carriage, provided he was allowed to bear half the 
expenses of the entertainment. This proposal was 
agreed to by Mr. Eglantine, and the two gentlemen 
parted to meet once more at the "Kidneys" that 
night, when everybody was edified by the friendly 
tone adopted between them. 

Mr. Snaffle, at the club meeting, made the very 
same proposal to Mr. Woolsey that the perfumer had 
made ; and stated that as Eglantine was going to ride 
Hemperor, Woolsey, at least, ought to mount too. 
But he was met by the same modest refusal on the 
tailor's part, who stated that he had never mounted 
a horse yet, and preferred greatly the use of a coach. 

Eglantine's character as a "swell" rose greatly 
with the club that evening. 

Two o'clock on Sunday came: the two beaux ar- 
rived punctually at the door to receive the two smiling 
ladies. 

" Bless us, Mr. Eglantine ! " said Miss Crump, quite 
struck by him, " I never saw you look so handsome 
in your life." He could have flung his arms 
around her neck at the compliment. " And law, Ma ! 
what has happened to Mr. Woolsey ? does n't he 
look ten years younger than yesterday?" Mamma 
assented, and Woolsey bowed gallantly, and the two 
gentlemen exchanged a nod of hearty friendship. 



THE RAVENSWING. 243 

The day was delightful. Eglantine pranced along 
magnificently on his cantering arm-chair, with his hat 
on one ear, his left hand on his side, and his head 
flung over his shoulder, and throwing under-glances 
at Morgiana whenever the "Emperor" was in ad- 
vance of the Clarence. The "Emperor" pricked up 
his ears a little uneasily passing the Ebenezer chapel 
in Richmond, where the congregation were singing a 
hymn, but beyond this no accident occurred : nor was 
Mr. Eglantine in the least stiff or fatigued by the 
time the party reached Richmond, where he arrived 
time enough to give his steed into the charge of an 
ostler, and to present his elbow to the ladies as they 
alighted from the Clarence carriage. 

What this jovial party ate for dinner at the " Star 
and Garter " need not here be set down. If they did 
not drink champagne I am very much mistaken. 
They were as merry as any four people in Christen- 
. dom ; and between the bewildering attentions of the 
perfumer, and the manly courtesy of the tailor, 
Morgiana very likely forgot the gallant Captain, or, 
at least, was very happy in his absence. 

At eight o'clock tbey began to drive homewards. 
" Won't you come into the carriage ? " said Morgiana 
to Eglantine, with one of her tenderest looks 5 " Dick 
can ride the horse." But Archibald was too great a 
lover of equestrian exercise. " I 'm afraid to trust 
anybody on this horse," said he with a knowing look ; 
and so he pranced away by the side of the little car- 
riage. The moon was brilliant, and, with the aid of 
the gas-lamps, illuminated the whole face of the 
country in a way inexpressibly lively. 

Presently, in the distance, the sweet and plaintive 
notes of a bugle were heard, and the performer, with 
great delicacy, executed a religious air. " Music, too ! 



244 MEN'S WIVE& 

heavenly ! " said Morgiana, throwing up her eyes to 
the stars. The music came nearer and nearer, and 
the delight of the company was only more intense. 
The fly was going at about four miles an hour, and 
the " Emperor " began cantering to time at the same 
rapid pace. 

"This must be some gallantry of yours, Mr. 
Woolsey," said the romantic Morgiana, turning upon 
the gentleman. "Mr. Eglantine treated us to the 
dinner, and you have provided us with the music." 

Now Woolsey had been a little, a very little, dis- 
satisfied during the course of the evening's entertain- 
ment, by fancying that Eglantine, a much more 
voluble person than himself, had obtained rather an 
undue share of the ladies' favor; and as he himself 
paid half of the expenses, he felt very much vexed to 
think that the perfumer should take all the credit of 
the business to himself. So when Miss Crump asked 
if he had provided the music, he foolishly made an 
evasive reply to her query, and rather wished her to 
imagine that he had performed that piece of gallantry. 
" If it pleases you. Miss Morgiana," said this artful 
Schneider, " what more need any man ask ? would n't 
I have all Drury Lane orchestra to please you ? " 

The bugle had by this time arrived quite close to the 
Clarence carriage, and if Morgiana had looked round 
she might have seen whence the music came. Behind 
her came slowly a drag, or private stage-coach, with four 
horses. Two grooms with cockades and folded arms 
were behind; and driving on the box, a little gentle- 
man with a blue bird's-eye neck-cloth, and a white coat 
A bugleman was by his side, who performed the melo- 
dies which so delighted Miss Crump. He played 
very gently and sweetly, and "God save the King" 
trembled so softly out of the brazen orifice of his 



THE RAVENSWENG. 245 

bugle, that the Crumps, the tailor, and Eglantine 
himself, who was riding close by the carriage, were 
quite charmed and subdued. 

" Thank you, dear Mr. Woolsey," said the grateful 
Morgiana ; which made Eglantine stare, and Woolsey 
was just saying, " Really, upon my word, I 've noth- 
ing to do with it," when the man on the drag-box said 
to the bugleman, " Now ! " 

The bugleman began the tune of — 

44 Heaven preserve oar Emperor Fra-an-ds, 
Rum tum-ti-tum-ti-titti-ti." 

At the sound, the "Emperor " reared himself (with a 
roar from Mr. Eglantine) — reared and beat the air 
with his fore-paws. Eglantine flung his arms around 
the beast's neck, still he kept beating time with his 
fore-paws. Mrs. Crump screamed; Mr. Woolsey, 
Dick, the Clarence coachman, Lord Vauxhall (for it 
was he), and his lordship's two grooms, burst into a 
shout of laughter ; Morgiana cries " Mercy ! mercy ! " 
Eglantine yells "Stop!" — "Wo !" — " Oh! " and a 
thousand ejaculations of hideous terror; until, at 
last, down drops the " Emperor " stone dead in the 
middle of the road as if carried off by a cannon-ball. 

Fancy the situation, ye callous souls who laugh at 
the misery of humanity, fancy the situation of poor 
Eglantine under the "Emperor!" He had fallen 
very easy, the animal lay perfectly quiet, and the 
perfumer was to all intents and purposes as dead as 
the animal. He had not fainted, but he was immova- 
ble with terror ; he lay in a puddle, and thought it 
was his own blood gushing from him ; and he would 
have lain there until Monday morning, if my lord's 
grooms, descending, had not dragged him by the coat- 
collars from under the beast, who still lay quiet 



246 MEN'S WIVES. 

" Play * Charming Judy Callaghan,' will ye ? " says 
Mr. Snaffle's man, the fly-driver ; on which the bugler 
performed that lively air, and up started the horse, 
and the grooms, who were rubbing Mr. Eglantine 
down against a lamp-post, invited him to remount. 

But his heart was too broken for that. The ladies 
gladly made room for him in the Clarence. Dick 
mounted "Emperor" and rode homewards. The 
drag, too, drove away, playing, "0 dear, what can 
the matter be?" and with a scowl of furious hate, 
Mr. Eglantine sat and regarded his rival. His panta- 
loons were split, and his coat torn up the back. 

" Are you hurt much, dear Mr. Archibald ? " said 
Morgiana, with unaffected compassion. 

" N-not much," said the poor fellow, ready to burst 
into tears. 

"Oh, Mr. Woolsey," added the good-natured girl, 
" how could you play such a trick ? " 

"Upon my word," Woolsey began, intending to 
plead innocence ; but the ludicrousness of the situa- 
tion was once more too much for him, and he burst 
out into a roar of laughter. 

"You! you cowardly beast!" howled out Eglan- 
tine, now driven to fury, — "you laugh at me, you 
miserable cretur ! Take that, sir ! " and he fell upon 
him with all his might and well nigh throttled the 
tailor, and pummelling his eyes, his nose, his ears, 
with inconceivable rapidity, wrenched, finally, his 
wig off his head and flung it into the road. 

Morgiana saw that Woolsey had red hair. 1 

1 A French proverbe famished the author with the notion of the 
rivalry between the Barber and the Tailor. 



CHAPTER IV. 

IN WHICH THE HEROINE HAS A NUMBER MORE 
LOVERS, AND CUTS A VERY DASHING FIGURE IN 
THE WORLD. 

Two years have elapsed since the festival at Rich- 
mond, which, begun so peaceably, ended in such gen- 
eral uproar. Morgiana never could be brought to 
pardon Woolsey's red hair, nor to help laughing at 
Eglantine's disasters, nor could the two gentlemen 
be reconciled to one another. Woolsey, indeed, sent 
a challenge to the perfumer to meet him with pistols, 
which the latter declined, saying, justly, that trades- 
men had no business with such weapons ; on this the 
tailor proposed to meet him with coats off, and have 
it out like men, in the presence of their friends of 
the "Kidney Club." The perfumer said he would 
be party to no such vulgar transaction; on which, 
Woolsey, exasperated, made an oath that he would 
tweak the perfumer's nose so surely as he ever 
entered the club-room ; and thus one member of the 
" Kidneys " was compelled to vacate his arm-chair. 

Woolsey himself attended every meeting regularly, 
but he did not evince that gayety and good-humor 
which render men's company agreeable in clubs. On 
arriving, he would order the boy to " tell him when 
that scoundrel Eglantine came ; " and, hanging up his 
hat on a peg, would scowl round the room, and tuck 
up his sleeves very high, and stretch, and shake his 
fingers and wrists, as if getting them ready for that 



248 MEN'S WIVES. 

pull of the nose which he intended to bestow upon 
his rival. So prepared, he would sit down and smoke 
his pipe quite silently, glaring at all, and jumping up, 
and hitching up his coat-sleeves, when any one en- 
tered the room. 

The " Kidneys " did not like this behavior. Clinker 
ceased to come. Bustard, the poulterer, ceased to 
come. As for Snaffle, he also disappeared, for Woolsey 
wished to make him answerable for the misbehavior of 
Eglantine, and proposed to him the duel which the 
latter had declined. So Snaffle went. Presently 
they all went, except the tailor and Tressle, who 
lived down the street, and these two would sit and 
puff their tobacco, one on each side of Crump, the 
landlord, as silent as Indian chiefs in a wigwam. 
There grew to be more and more room for poor old 
Crump in his chair and in his clothes; the "Kid- 
neys " were gone, and why should he remain ? One 
Saturday he did not come down to preside at the club 
(as he still fondly called it), and the Saturday follow- 
ing Tressle had made a coffin for him ; and Woolsey, 
with the undertaker by his side, followed to the grave 
the father of the " Kidneys." 

Mrs. Crump was now alone in the world. " How 
alone?" says some innocent and respected reader. 
Ah ! my dear sir, do you know so little of human 
nature as not to be aware thai, one week after 
the Richmond affair, Morgiana married Captain 
Walker? That did she privately, of course; and, 
after the ceremony, came tripping back to her parents, 
as young people do in plays, and said, " Forgive me, 
dear Pa and Ma, I 'in married, and here is my hus- 
band, the Captain ! " Papa and mamma did forgive 
her, as why should n't they ? and papa paid over her 
fortune to her, which she carried home delighted to 




H 
S 

M 

s 






W 

as 
H 



?Ui-;LICLIb--^M 




THE RAVENSW1NG. 249 

the Captain. This happened several months before 
the demise of old Crump ; and Mrs. Captain Walker 
was on the Continent with her Howard when that 
melancholy event took place; hence Mrs. Crump's 
loneliness and unprotected condition. Morgiana had 
not latterly seen much of the old people ; how could 
she, moving in her exalted sphere, receive at her gen- 
teel new residence in the Edgeware Road, the old 
publican and his wife? 

Being, then, alone in the world, Mrs. Crump could 
not abear she said, to live in the house where she had 
been so respected and happy : so she sold the good- 
will of the " Boot-jack," and, with the money arising 
from this sale and her own private fortune, being able 
to muster some sixty pounds per annum, retired to 
the neighborhood of her dear old " Sadler's Wells," 
where she boarded with one of Mrs. Serle's forty 
pupils. Her heart was broken, she said ; but never- 
theless, about nine months after Mr. Crump's death, 
the wallflowers, nasturtiums, polyanthuses and con- 
volvuluses began to blossom under her bonnet as 
usual ; in a year she was dressed quite as fine as ever, 
and now never missed " The Wells," or some other 
place of entertainment, one single night, but was as 
regular as the box-keeper. Nay, she was a buxom 
widow still, and an old flame of hers, Fisk, so cele- 
brated as pantaloon in Grimaldi's time, but now doing 
the " heavy fathers " at " The Wells," proposed to her 
to exchange her name for his. 

But this proposal the worthy widow declined alto- 
gether. To say truth, she was exceedingly proud of 
her daughter, Mrs. Captain Walker. They did not 
see each other much at first ; but every now and then 
Mrs. Crump would pay a visit to the folks in Con- 
naught Square; and on the days when "the Cap- 



250 MEN'S WIVES. 

tain's " lady called in the City Road, there was not a 
single official at " The Wells/' from the first tragedian 
down to the call-boy, who was not made aware of the 
fact. 

It has been said that Morgiana carried home her 
fortune in her own reticule, and smiling placed the 
money in her husband's lap; and hence the reader may 
imagine, who knows Mr. Walker to be an extremely 
selfish fellow, that a great scene of anger must have 
taken place, and many coarse oaths and epithets of 
abuse must have come from him, when he found that 
five hundred pounds was all that his wife had, al- 
though he had expected five thousand with her. But, 
to say the truth, Walker was at this time almost in 
love with his handsome, rosy, good-humored, simple 
wife. They had made a fortnight's tour, during which 
they had been exceedingly happy; and there was 
something so frank and touching in the way in which 
the kind creature flung her all into his lap, saluting him 
with a hearty embrace at the same time, and wishing 
that it were a thousand billion billion times more, so 
that her darling Howard might enjoy it, that the man 
would have been a ruffian indeed could he have found 
it in his heart to be angry with her ; and so he kissed 
her in return, and patted her on the shining ringlets, 
and then counted over the notes with rather a discon- 
solate air, and ended by locking them up in his port- 
folio. In fact, she had never deceived him ; Eglantine 
had, and he in return had out-tricked Eglantine; 
and so warm were his affections for Morgiana at this 
time, that, upon my word and honor, I don't think he 
repented of his bargain. Besides, five hundred pounds 
in crisp bank-notes was a sum of money such as the 
Captain was not in the habit of handling every day ; 
a dashing, sanguine fellow, he fancied there was no 



THE KAVEN8WING. 251 

end to it, and already thought of a dozen ways by 
which it should increase and multiply into a plum. 
Woe is me ! Has not many a simple soul examined 
five new hundred-pound notes in this way, and calcu- 
lated their powers of duration and multiplication ! 

This subject, however, is too painful to be dwelt on. 
Let us hear what Walker did with his money. Why, 
he furnished the house in the Edgeware Road before 
mentioned, he ordered a handsome service of plate, 
he sported a phaeton and two ponies, he kept a 
couple of smart maids and a groom foot-boy, — in fact, 
he mounted just such a neat, unpretending, gentle- 
manlike establishment as becomes a respectable young 
couple on their outset in life. " I *ve sown my wild 
oats," he would say to his acquaintances; "a few 
years since, perhaps, I would have longed to cut a 
dash, but now prudence is the word ; and I 've settled 
every farthing of Mrs. Walker's fifteen thousand on 
herself." And the best proof that the world had con- 
fidence in him is the fact, that for the articles of plate, 
equipage, and furniture, which have been mentioned 
as being in his possession, he did not pay one single 
shilling; and so prudent was he, that but for turn- 
pikes, postage-stamps, and king's taxes, he hardly had 
occasion to change a five-pound note of his wife's 
fortune. 

To tell the truth, Mr. Walker had determined to 
make his fortune. And what is easier in London ? 
Is not the share-market open to all ? Do not Span- 
ish and Columbian bonds rise and fall? For what 
are companies invented but to place thousands in the 
pockets of shareholders and directors? Into these 
commercial pursuits the gallant Captain now plunged 
with great energy, and made some brilliant hits at 
first starting, and bought and sold so opportunely, 



282 MEN'S wivjsa 

that his name began to rise in the City as a capitalist, 
and might be seen in the printed list of directors of 
many excellent and philanthropic schemes, of which 
there is never any lack in London. Business to the 
amount of thousands was done at his agency ; shares 
of vast value were bought and sold under his manage- 
ment How poor Mr. Eglantine used to hate him and 
envy him, as from the door of his emporium (the firm 
was Eglantine and Mossrose now) he saw the Cap- 
tain daily arrive in his pony-phaeton, and heard of 
the start he had taken in life. 

The only regret Mrs. Walker had was that she did 
not enjoy enough of her husband's society. His busi- 
ness called him away all day; his business, too, 
obliged him to leave her of evenings very frequently 
alone ; whilst he (always in pursuit of business) was 
dining with his great friends at the club, and drink- 
ing claret and champagne to the same end. 

She was a perfectly good-natured and simple soul, 
and never made him a single reproach ; but when he 
could pass an evening at home with her she was de- 
lighted, and when he could drive with her in the 
Park she. was happy for a week after. On these oc- 
casions, and in the fulness of her heart, she would 
drive to her mother and tell her story. "Howard 
drove with me in the Park yesterday, Mamma;" 
" Howard has promised to take me to the Opera," and 
so forth. And that evening the manager, Mr. 
Gawler, the first tragedian, Mrs. Serle and her forty 
pupils, all the box-keepers, bonnet- women — nay, the 
ginger-beer girls themselves at "The Wells," knew 
that Captain and Mrs. Walker were at Kensington 
Gardens, or were to have the Marchioness of Billings- 
gate's box at the Opera. One night — joy of joys ! 
— Mrs. Captain Walker appeared in a private box at 



THE RAVENSWING. 253 

"The Wells." That's she with the black ringlets 
and Cashmere shawl, smelling-bottle, and black velvet 
gown, and bird of paradise in her hat. Goodness 
gracious ! how they all acted at her, Gawler and all, 
and how happy Mrs. Cramp was! She kissed her 
daughter between all the acts, she nodded to all her 
friends on the stage, in the slips, or in the real water; 
she introduced her daughter, Mrs. Captain Walker, to 
the box-opener; and Melvil Delamere (the first 
comic), Canterfield (the tyrant), and Jonesini (the 
celebrated Fontarabian Statuesque), were all on the 
steps, and shouted for Mrs. Captain Walker's carriage, 
and waved their hats, and bowed as the little pony- 
phaeton drove away. Walker, in his mustaches, had 
come in at the end of the play, and was not a little 
gratified by the compliments paid to himself and lady. 

Among the other articles of luxury with which the 
Captain furnished his house we must not omit to 
mention an extremely grand piano, which occupied 
four-fifths of Mrs. Walker's little back drawing-room, 
and at which she was in the habit of practising con- 
tinually. All day and all night during Walker's ab- 
sences (and these occurred all night and all day) you 
might hear — the whole street might hear — the voice 
of the lady at No. 23 gurgling, and shaking, and 
quavering, as ladies do when they practise. The 
street did not approve of the continuance of the noise ; 
but neighbors are difficult to please, and what would 
Morgiana have had to do if she had ceased to sing ? 
It would be hard to lock a blackbird in a cage and 
prevent him from singing too. And so Walker's 
blackbird, in the snug little cage in the Edgeware 
Road, sang and was not unhappy. 

After the pair had been married for about a year, 
the omnibus that passes both by Mrs. Crump's house 



264 MEN'S WIVES. 

near "The Wells," and by Mrs. Walker's street off 
the Edgeware Road, brought up the former-named 
lady almost every day to her daughter. She came 
when the Captain had gone to his business; she 
stayed to a two-o'clock dinner with Morgiana, she 
drove with her in the pony-carriage round the Park, 
but she never stopped later than six. Had she not 
to go to the play at seven ? And, besides, the Cap- 
tain might come home with some of his great friends, 
and he always swore and grumbled much if he found 
his mother-in-law on the premises. As for Morgiana, 
she was one of those women who encourage despotism 
in husbands. What the husband says must be right, 
because he says it; what he orders must be obeyed 
tremblingly. Mrs. Walker gave up her entire reason 
to her lord. Why was it ? Before marriage she had 
been an independent little person ; she had far more 
brains than her Howard. I think it must have been 
his mustaches that frightened her, and caused in her 
this humility. 

Selfish husbands have this advantage in maintaining 
with easy-minded wives a rigid and inflexible behavior, 
viz., that if they do by any chance grant a little favor, 
the ladies receive it with such transports of gratitude 
as they would never think of showing to a lord and 
master who was accustomed to give them everything 
they asked for ; and hence, when Captain Walker sig- 
nified his assent to his wife's prayer that she should 
take a singing-master, she thought his generosity 
almost divine, and fell upon her mamma's neck, when 
that lady came the next day, and said what a dear 
adorable angel her Howard was, and what ought she 
not to do for a man who had taken her from her hum- 
ble situation, and raised her to be what she was! 
What she was, poor soul t She was the wife of a 



THE RAVENSWING. 255 

swindling parvenu gentleman. She received visits 
from six ladies of her husband's acquaintances, — 
two attorneys' ladies, his bill-broker's lady, and one 
or two more, of whose characters we had best, if you 
please, say nothing ; and she thought it an honor to 
be so distinguished: as if Walker had been a Lord 
Exeter to marry a humble maiden, or a noble prince 
to fall in love with a humble Cinderella, or a majestic 
Jove to come down from heaven and woo a Seniele. 
Look through the world, respectable reader, and 
among your honorable acquaintances, and say if this 
sort of faith in women is not very frequent ? They 
will believe in their husbands, whatever the latter do. 
Let John be dull, ugly, vulgar, and a humbug, his 
Mary Ann never finds it out; let him tell his stories 
ever so many times, there is she always ready with 
her kind smile ; let him be stingy, she says he is pru- 
dent ; let him quarrel with his best friend, she says 
he is always in the right; let him be prodigal, she 
says he is generous, and that his health requires 
enjoyment ; let him be idle, he must have relaxation ; 
and she will pinch herself and her household that he 
may have a guinea for his club. Yes; and every 
morning, as she wakes and looks at the face, snoring 
on the pillow by her side — every morning, I say, she 
blesses that dull, ugly countenance, and the dull ugly 
soul reposing there, and thinks both are something 
divine. I want to know how it is that women do not 
find out their husbands to be humbugs ? Nature has 
so provided it, and thanks to her. When last year 
they were acting the "Midsummer Night's Dream," 
and all the boxes began to roar with great coarse hee- 
haws at Titania hugging Bottom's long long ears — to 
me, considering these things, it seemed that there were 
a hundred other male brutes squatted round about, and 



256 MEN'S WIVBa 

treated just as reasonably as Bottom was. Their 
Titanias lulled them to sleep in their laps, summoned 
a hundred smiling, delicate, household fairies to tickle 
their gross intellects and minister to their vulgar 
pleasures ; and (as the above remarks are only sup- 
posed to apply to honest women loving their own law- 
ful spouses) a mercy it is that no wicked Puck is in 
the way to open their eyes, and point out their folly. 
Cui bono ? let them live on in their deceit : I know 
two lovely ladies who will read this, and will say it 
is just very likely, and not see in the least that it has 
been written regarding them. 

Another point of sentiment, and one curious to 
speculate on. Have you not remarked the immense 
works of art that women get through ? The worsted- 
work sofas, the counterpanes patched or knitted (but 
these are among the old-fashioned in the country), 
the bushels of pincushions, the albums they labo- 
riously fill, the tremendous pieces of music they prac- 
tise, the thousand other fiddle-faddles which occupy 
the attention of the dear souls — nay, have we not 
seen them seated of evenings in a squad or company, 
Louisa employed at the worsted-work before men- 
tioned, Eliza at the pincushions, Amelia at card-racks 
or filigree matches, and, in the midst, Theodosia with 
one of the candles, reading out a novel aloud ? Ah ! 
my dear sir, mortal creatures must be very hard put 
to it for amusement, be sure of that, when they are 
forced to gather together in a company and hear 
novels read aloud! They only do it because they 
can't help it, depend upon it : it is a sad life, a poor 
pastime. Mr. Dickens, in his American book, tells of 
the prisoners at the silent prison, how they had orna- 
mented their rooms, some of them with a frightful 
prettiness and elaboration. Women's fancy-work is 



THE BAVENSWING. 257 

of this sort often — only prison work, done because 
there was no other exereising-ground for their poor 
little thoughts and fingers; and hence these won- 
derful pincushions are executed, these counterpanes 
woven, these sonatas learned. By everything senti- 
mental, when I see two kind, innocent, fresh-cheeked 
young women go to a piano, and sit down opposite to 
it upon two chairs piled with more or less music-books 
(according to their convenience), and, so seated, go 
through a set of double-barrelled variations upon this 
or that tune by Herz or Kalkbrenner, — I say, far 
from receiving any satisfaction at the noise made by 
the performance, my too susceptible heart is given 
up entirely to bleeding for the performers. What 
hours, and weeks, nay, preparatory years of study, has 
that infernal jig cost them! What sums has papa 
paid, what scoldings has mamma administered (" Lady 
Bullblock does not play herself, w Sir Thomas says, 
"but she has naturally the finest ear for music ever 
known ! " ) ; what evidences of slavery, in a word, are 
there ! It is the condition of the young lady's exist- 
ence. She breakfasts at eight, she does "MangnalPs 
Questions " with the governess till ten, she practises 
till one, she walks in the square with bars round her 
till two, then she practises again, then she sews or 
hems, or reads French, or Hume's "History," then 
she comes down to play to papa, because he likes 
music whilst he is asleep after dinner, and then it is 
bedtime, and the morrow is another day with what 
are called the same " duties " to be gone through. A 
friend of mine went to call at a nobleman's house the 
other day, and one of the young ladies of the house 
came into the room with a tray on her head ; this tray 
was to give Lady Maria a graceful carriage. Man 
Dieu I and who knows but at that moment Lady Bell 
vol. zxix. — 17 



258 MEN'S WIVEa 

was at work with a pair of her dumb namesakes, and 
Lady Sophy lying flat on a stretching-board ? I could 
write whole articles on this theme: but peace! we 
are keeping Mrs. Walker waiting all the while. 

Well, then, if the above disquisitions have anything 
to do with the story, as no doubt they have, I wish it 
to be understood that, during her husband's absence, 
and her own solitary confinement, Mrs. Howard 
Walker bestowed a prodigious quantity of her time 
and energy on the cultivation of her musical talent; 
and having, as before stated, a very fine loud voice, 
speedily attained no ordinary skill in the use of it 
She first had for teacher little Podmore, the fat 
chorus-master at " The Wells," and who had taught 
her mother the " Tink-a-tink " song which has been 
such a favorite sinoe it first appeared. He grounded 
her well, and bade her eschew the singing of all those 
"Eagle Tavern " ballads in which her heart formerly 
delighted ; and when he had brought her to a certain 
point of skill, the honest little chorus-master said she 
should have a still better instructor, and wrote a note 
to Captain Walker (enclosing his own little account), 
speaking in terms of the most flattering encomium 
of his lady's progress, and recommending that she 
should take lessons of the celebrated BaroskL Cap- 
tain Walker dismissed Podmore then, and engaged 
Signor Baroski, at a vast expense; as he did not fail 
to tell his wife. In fact, he owed Baroski no less 
than two hundred and twenty guineas when he was — 
But we are advancing matters. 

Little Baroski is the author of the opera of " Elio- 
gabalo," of the oratorio of " Purgatorio," which made 
such an immense sensation, of songs and ballet-musics 
innumerable. He is a German by birth, and shows 
such an outrageous partiality for pork and sausages, 



THE RAVENSWING. 269 

and attends at church so constantly, that I am sore 
there cannot be any foundation in the story that he is 
a member of the ancient religion. He is a fat little 
man, with a hooked nose and jetty whiskers, and 
coal-black shining eyes, and plenty of rings and jewels 
on his fingers and about his person, and a very con- 
siderable portion of his shirt-sleeves turned oyer his 
coat to take the air. His great hands (which can 
sprawl over half a piano, and produce those effects on 
the instrument for which he is celebrated) are encased 
in lemon-colored kids, new, or cleaned daily. Paren- 
thetically, let us ask why so many men, with coarse 
red wrists and big hands, persist in the white kid 
glove and wristband system ? Baroski's gloves alone 
must cost him a little fortune ; only he says with a 
leer, when asked the question, " Get along vid you ; 
don't you know dere is a gloveress that lets me have 
dem very sheap?" He rides in the Park; has 
splendid lodgings in Dover Street ; and is a member 
of the "Regent Club," where he is a great source of 
amusement to the members, to whom he tells aston- 
ishing stories of his successes with the ladies, and for 
whom he has always play and opera tickets in store. 
His eye glistens and his little heart beats when a 
lord speaks to him ; and he has been known to spend 
large sums of money in giving treats to young sprigs 
of fashion at Richmond and elsewhere. "In my 
bolyticks," he says, "I am consarevatiff to de bag- 
bone." In fine, he is a puppy, and withal a man of 
considerable genius in his profession. 

This gentleman then undertook to complete the 
musical education of Mrs. Walker. He expressed 
himself at once "enshanted vid her gababilities," 
found that the extent of her voice was " brodigions," 
and guaranteed that she should become a first-rat* 



260 HEN'S WIVES. 

ainger. The pupil was apt, the master was exceed- 
ingly skilful ; and, accordingly, Mrs. Walker's prog- 
ress was very remarkable: although, for her part, 
honest Mrs. Crump, who used to attend her daughter's 
lessons, would grumble not a little at the new system, 
and the endless exercises which she, Morgiana, was 
made to go through. It was very different in her 
time, she said. Incledon knew no music, and who 
could sing so well now? Give her a good English 
ballad; it was a thousand times sweeter than your 
"Figaros" and " Semiramide8. ,, 

In spite of these objections, however, and with 
amazing perseverance and cheerfulness, Mrs. Walker 
pursued the method of study pointed out to her by 
her master. As soon as her husband went to the City 
in the morning her operations began ; if he remained 
away at dinner, her labors still continued : nor is it 
necessary for me to particularize her course of study, 
nor, indeed, possible ; for, between ourselves, none of 
the male Fitz-Boodles ever could sing a note, and the 
jargon of scales and solfeggios is quite unknown to 
me. But as no man can have seen persons addicted 
to music without remarking the prodigious energies 
they display in the pursuit, as there is no father of 
daughters, however ignorant, but is aware of the 
piano-rattling and voice-exercising which goes on in 
his house from morning till night, so let all fancy, 
without further inquiry, how the heroine of our story 
was at this stage of her existence occupied. 

Walker was delighted with her progress, and did 
everything but pay Baroski, her instructor. We know 
why he did n't pay. It was his nature not to pay 
bills, except on extreme compulsion; but why did not 
Baroski employ that extreme compulsion ? Because, 
if he had received his money, he would have lost his 



THE RAVENSWING. 261 

pupil, and because he loved his pupil more than 
money. Bather than lose her, he would have given 
her a guinea as well as her cachet He would some- 
times disappoint a great personage, but he never 
missed his attendance on her; and the truth must out 
that he was in love with her, as Woolsey and Eglan- 
tine had been before. 

"By the immortel Chofel" he would say, "dat 
letell ding sents me mad vid her big ice ! But only 
vait avile: in six veeks I can bring any voman in 
England on her knees to me ; and you shall see vat 
I vill do vid my Morgiana." He attended her for 
si* weeks punctually, and yet Morgiana was never 
brought down on her knees; he exhausted his best 
stock of " gomblimends," and she never seemed dis- 
posed to receive them with anything but laughter. 
And, as a matter of course, he only grew more infatu- 
ated with the lovely creature who was so provokingly 
good-humored and so laughingly cruel. 

Benjamin Barc>ki was one of the chief ornaments 
of the musical profession in London; he charged a 
guinea for a lesson of three-quarters of an hour 
abroad, and he had, furthermore, a school at his own 
residence, where pupils assembled in considerable 
numbers, and of that curious mixed kind which those 
may see who frequent these places of instruction. 
There were very innocent young ladies with their 
mammas, who would hurry them off trembling to the 
farther corner of the room when certain doubtful 
professional characters made their appearance. There 
was Miss Origg, who sang at the "Foundling," and 
Mr. Johnson, who sang at the " Eagle Tavern,' 1 and 
Madame Fioravanti (a very doubtful character), who 
sang nowhere, but was always coming out at the 
Italian Opera. There was Lumley Limpiter (Lord 



262 MEN'S WIVES. 

Tweedledale's son), one of the most accomplished 
tenors in town, and who, we have heard, sings with 
the professionals at a hundred concerts ; and with him, 
too, was Captain Guzzard of the Guards, with his 
tremendous bass voice, which all the world declared 
to be as fine as Porto's, and who shared the applause 
of Baroski's school with Mr. Bulger, the dentist of 
Saokville Street, who neglected his ivory and gold 
plafces for his voice, as every unfortunate individual 
will do who is bitten by the music mania. Then 
among the ladies there were a half-score of dubious 
pale governesses and professionals with turned frocks 
and lank damp bandeaux of hair under shabby little 
bonnets ; luckless creatures these, who were parting 
with their poor little store of half-guineas to be 
enabled to say they were pupils of Signor Baroski, and 
so get pupils of their own among the British youths, 
or employment in the choruses of the theatres. 

The prima donna of the little company was 
Amelia Larkins, Baroski's own articled pupil, on 
whose future reputation the eminent master staked 
his own, whose profits he was to share, and whom 
he had farmed, to this end, from her father, a most 
respectable sheriffs officer's assistant, and now, by 
his daughter's exertions, a considerable capitalist 
Amelia is blond and blue-eyed, her complexion is as 
bright as snow, her ringlets of the color of straw, 
her figure — but why describe her figure ? Has not all 
the world seen her at the Theatres Royal and in 
America under the name of Miss Ligonier? 

Until Mrs. Walker arrived, Miss Larkins was the 
undisputed princess of the Baroski company — the 
Semiramide, the Rosina, the Tamina, the Donna 
Anna. Baroski vaunted her everywhere as the great 
rising genius of the day, bade Catalani look to her 



THE BAVENSWING. 263 

laurels, and questioned whether Hiss Stephens could 
sing a ballad like his pupil Mrs. Howard Walker 
arrived and created, on the first occasion, no small 
sensation. She improved, and the little society be- 
came speedily divided into Walkerites and Larkin- 
eians; and between these two ladies (as, indeed, 
between Guzzard and Bulger before mentioned, be- 
tween Miss Brunck and Miss Horsman, the two con- 
traltos, and between the chorus-singers, after their 
kind) a great rivalry arose. Larkins was certainly 
the better singer; but could her straw-colored curls 
and dumpy high-shouldered figure bear any compari- 
son with the jetty ringlets and stately form of Mor- 
giana? Did not Mrs. Walker, too, come to the 
music-lesson in her carriage, and with a black velvet 
gown and cashmere shawl, while poor Larkins meekly 
stepped from Bell Yard, Temple Bar, in an old print 
gown and clogs, which she left in the hall ? " Larkins 
sing!" said Mrs. Crump, sarcastically; "I'm sure 
she ought ; her mouth 's big enough to sing a duet." 
Poor Larkins had no one to make epigrams in her 
behoof ; her mother was at home tending the younger 
ones, her father abroad following the duties of his 
profession; she had but one protector, as she thought, 
and that one was Baroski Mrs. Crump did not fail 
to tell Lumley Limpiter of her own former triumphs, 
and to sing him " Tink-a-tink," which we have pre- 
viously heard, and to state how in former days she 
had been called the Bavenswing. And Lumley, on 
this hint, made a poem in which he compared Mor- 
giana's hair to the plumage of the Raven's wing, and 
Larkinissa's to that of the canary; by which two 
names the ladies began soon to be known in the 
school. 
Ere long, the flight of the Bavenswing became evi. 



264 MEN'S WIVES. 

dently stronger, whereas that of the canary was seen 
evidently to droop. When Morgiana sang, all the 
room would cry " bravo ; " when Amelia performed, 
scarce a hand was raised for applause of her, except 
Morgiana's own, and that the Larkinses thought was 
lifted in odious triumph, rather than in sympathy, 
for Miss L. was of an envious turn, and little un- 
derstood the generosity of her rival. 

At last, one day, the crowning victory of the 
Bavenswing came. In the trio of Baroski's own 
opera of " Eliogabalo," "Rosy lips and rosy wine," 
Miss Larkins, who was evidently unwell, was taking 
the part of the English captive, which she had sung 
in public concerts before royal dukes, and with con- 
siderable applause, and, from some reason performed 
it so ill, that Baroski, slapping down the music on 
the piano in a fury, cried, "Mrs. Howard Walker, 
as Miss Larkins cannot sing to-day, will you favor 
us by taking the part of Boadicetta ? " Mrs. Walker 
got up smilingly to obey — the triumph was too 
great to be withstood ; and, as she advanced to the 
piano, Miss Larkins looked wildly at her, and stood 
silent for awhile, and, at last shrieked out, "Benja- 
min!" in a tone of extreme agony, and dropped 
fainting down on the ground. Benjamin looked ex- 
tremely red, it must be confessed, at being thus called 
by what we shall denominate his Christian name, and 
Limpiter looked round at Guzzard, and Miss Brunck 
nudged Miss Horsman, and the lesson concluded 
rather abruptly that day; for Miss Larkins was 
carried off to the next room, laid on a oouch, and 
sprinkled with water. 

Good-natured Morgiana insisted that her mother 
should take Miss Larkins to Bell Yard in her car- 
riage, and went herself home on foot} but I don't 



THE BAVENSWINO. 266 

know that this piece of kindness prevented Larkins 
from hating her. I should doubt if it did. 

Hearing so much of his wife's skill as a singer, the 
astute Captain Walker determined to take advantage 
of it for the purpose of increasing his "connection." 
He had Lumley Limpiter at his house before long, 
which was, indeed, no great matter, for honest Lum 
would go anywhere for a good dinner, and an oppor- 
tunity to show off his voice afterwards, and Lumley 
was begged to bring any more clerks in the Treasury 
of his acquaintance ; Captain Guzzard was invited, 
and any officers of the Guards whom he might 
choose to bring; Bulger received occasional cards: 
— in a word, and after a short time, Mrs. Howard 
Walker's musical parties began to be considerably 
suivies. Her husband had the satisfaction to see 
his rooms filled by many great personages ; and once 
or twice in return (indeed, whenever she was wanted, 
or when people could not afford to hire the first 
singers) she was asked to parties elsewhere, and 
treated with that killing civility which our English 
aristocracy knows how to bestow on artists. Clever 
and wise aristocracy! It is sweet to mark your 
ways, and study your commerce with inferior men. 

I was just going to commence a tirade regarding 
the aristocracy here, and to rage against the cool 
assumption of superiority which distinguishes their 
lordships' commerce with artists of all sorts: that 
politeness which, if it condescend to receive artists 
at all, takes care to have them altogether, so that 
there can be no mistake about their rank — that 
august patronage of art which rewards it with a silly 
flourish of knighthood, to be sure, but takes care to 
exclude it from any contact with its betters in so- 
ciety, — I was, I say, just going to commence a tirade 



266 MSN'S WIYE& 

against the aristocracy for excluding artists from 
their company, and to be extremely satirical upon 
them, for instance, for not receiving my friend Mor- 
giana, when it suddenly came into my head to ask, 
was Mrs. Walker fit to move in the best society ? 
— to which query it must humbly be replied that 
she was not. Her education was not such as to 
make her quite the equal of Baker Street She was 
a kind, honest, and clever creature ; but, it must be 
confessed, not refined. Wherever she went she had, 
if not the finest, at any rate the most showy gown 
in the room; her ornaments were the biggest: her 
hats, toques, berets, marabouts, and other fallals, 
always the most conspicuous. She drops " h's " here 
and there. I have seen her eat peas with a knife 
(and Walker, scowling on the opposite side of the 
table, striving in vain to catch her eye) ; and I shall 
never forget Lady Smigmag's horror when she asked 
for porter at dinner at Richmond, and began to drink 
it out of the pewter pot It was a fine sight She 
lifted up the tankard with one of the finest arms, 
covered with the biggest bracelets ever seen; and 
had a bird of paradise on her head, that curled 
around the pewter disk of the pot as she raised it 
like a halo. These peculiarities she had, and has 
still. She is best away from the genteel world, that 
is the fact When she says that "The weather is 
so 'ot that it is quite debiliating;" when she laughs, 
when she hits her neighbor at dinner on the side of 
the waistcoat (as she will if he should say anything 
that amuses her), she does what is perfectly natural 
and unaffected on her part, but what is not custom- 
arily done among polite persons, who can sneer at 
her odd manners and her vanity, but don't know 
the kindness, honesty, and simplicity which distin- 



THE RAVENSWING. 267 

guish her. This point being admitted, it follows, 
of course, that the tirade against the aristocracy 
would, in the present instance, be out of place — so 
it shall be reserved for some other occasion. 

The Bavenswing was a person admirably disposed 
by nature to be happy. She had a disposition so 
kindly that any small attention would satisfy it; was 
pleased when alone ; was delighted in a crowd ; was 
charmed with a joke, however old ; was always ready 
to laugh, to dance, to sing, or to be merry; was so 
tender-hearted that the smallest ballad would make 
her cry, and hence was supposed, by many persons, 
to be extremely affected, and by almost all, to be a 
downright coquette. Several competitors for her 
favor presented themselves besides BaroskL Young 
dandies used to canter round her phaeton in the 
Park, and might be seen haunting her doors in the 
mornings. The fashionable artist of the day made a 
drawing of her, which was engraved and sold in the 
shops; a copy of it was printed in a song, "Black- 
eyed Maiden of Araby," the words by Desmond 
Mulligan, Esq., the music composed and dedicated 
to Mrs. Howard Walker, by her most faithful and 
obliged servant, Benjamin Baroski ; and at night her 
Opera-box was full. Her Opera-box ? Yes, the heir- 
ess of the "Bootjack" actually had an Opera-box, 
and some of the most fashionable manhood of London 
attended it 

Now, in fact, was the time of her greatest pros- 
perity ; and her husband gathering these fashionable 
characters about him, extended his "agency" consid- 
erably, and began to thank his stars that he had 
married a woman who was as good as a fortune to 

hjm f 

In extending his agency, however, Mr. Walker 



268 MEN'S WIVES. 

increased his expenses proportionably, and multi- 
plied his debts accordingly. More furniture and 
more plate, more wines and more dinner-parties, 
became necessary; the little pony-phaeton was ex- 
changed for a brougham of evenings; and we may 
fancy our old friend Mr. Eglantine's rage and dis- 
gust, as he looked up from the pit of the Opera, to 
see Mrs. Walker surrounded by what he called " the 
swell young nobs" about London, bowing to my 
lord, and laughing with his grace, and led to her 
carriage by Sir John. 

The Ravenswing's position at this period was rather 
an exceptional one. She was an honest woman, vis- 
ited by that peculiar class of our aristocracy who 
chiefly associate with ladies who are not honest. She 
laughed with all, but she encouraged none. Old 
Crump was constantly at her side now when she 
appeared in public, the most watchful of mammas, 
always awake at the Opera, though she seemed to be 
always asleep ; but no dandy debauchee could deceive 
her vigilance, and for this reason, Walker, who dis- 
liked her (as every man naturally will, must, and 
should dislike his mother-in-law), was contented 
to suffer her in his house to act as a chaperon to 
, Morgiana. 

None of the young dandies ever got admission of 
mornings to the little mansion in the Edgeware Road ; 
the blinds were always down ; and though you might 
hear Morgiana's voice half across the Park as she 
was practising, yet the youthful hall-porter in the 
sugar-loaf buttons was instructed to deny her, and 
always declared that his mistress was gone out, with 
the most admirable assurance. 

After some two years of her life of splendor, there 
were, to be sure, a good number of morning visitors, 



THE RAVENSWING. 269 

who came with single knocks, and asked for Captain 
Walker ; but these were no more admitted than the 
dandies aforesaid, and were referred, generally, to 
the Captain's office, whither they went or not at their 
convenience. The only man who obtained admission 
into the house was Baroski, whose cab transported 
him thrice a week to the neighborhood of Connaught 
Square, and who obtained ready entrance in his pro- 
fessional capacity. 

But even then, and much to the wicked little 
music-master's disappointment, the dragon Crump 
was always at the piano with her endless worsted 
work, or else reading her unfailing "Sunday Times;" 
and Baroski could only employ "de langvitch of de 
ice," as he called it, with his fair pupil, who used to 
mimic his manner of rolling his eyes about after- 
wards and performed "Baroski in love," for the 
amusement of her husband and her mamma. The 
former had his reasons for overlooking the attentions 
of the little music-master ; and as for the latter, had 
she not been on the stage, and had not many hun- 
dreds of persons, in jest or earnest, made love to 
her ? What else can a pretty woman expect, who is 
much before the public ? And so the worthy mother 
counselled her daughter to bear these attentions with 
good-humor, rather than to make them a subject of 
perpetual alarm and quarrel. 

Baroski, then, was allowed to go on being in love, 
and was never in the least disturbed in his passion ; 
and if he was not successful, at least the little wretch 
could have the pleasure of hinting that he was, and 
looking particularly roguish when the Ravenswing 
was named, and assuring his friends at the club, that 
"upon his vort dere vas no trut in dat reibort." 

At last one day it happened that Mrs. Crump did 



270 MEN'S WIVEa 

not arrive in time for her daughter's lesson (perhaps 
it rained and the omnibus was full — a smaller cir- 
cumstance than that has changed a whole life ere 
now) — Mrs. Crump did not arrive, and Baroski did, 
and Morgiana, seeing no great harm, sat down to her 
lesson as usual, and in the midst of it down went the 
musio-master on his knees, and made a declaration in 
the most eloquent terms he could muster. 

"Don't be a fool, Baroski!" said the lady — (I 
can't help it if her language was not more choice, and 
if she did not rise with cold dignity, exclaiming, 
" Unhand me, sir ! ") — " don't be a fool ! " said Mrs. 
Walker, "but get up and let's finish the lesson." 

"You hard-hearted adorable little greature, vil you 
not listen tome?" 

"No, I vill not listen to you, Benjamin!" con- 
cluded the lady ; "get up and take a chair, and don't 
go on in that ridiklous way, don't ! " 

But Baroski, having a speech by heart, determined 
to deliver himself of it in that posture, and begged 
Morgiana not to turn avay her divine hice, and to 
listen to de voice of his despair, and so forth; he 
seized the lady's hand, and was going to press it to 
his lips, when she said, with more spirit, perhaps, 
than grace, — 

"Leave go my hand, sir; I'll box your ears if you 
don't!" 

But Baroski wouldn't release her hand, and was 
proceeding to imprint a kiss upon it, and Mrs. Crump, 
who had taken the omnibus at a quarter past twelve, 
instead of that at twelve, had just opened the draw- 
ing-room door and was walking in, when Morgiana, 
turning as red as a peony, and unable to disengage 
her left hand which the musician held, raised up her 
right hand, and, with all her might and main, gave 



THE RAVEN8WING. 271 

her lover such a tremendous slap in the face as 
caused him abruptly to release the hand which he 
held, and would have laid him prostrate on the 
carpet but for Mrs. Crump, who rushed forward and 
prevented him from falling by administering right 
and left a whole shower of slaps, such as he had 
never endured since the day he was at school. 

"What imperencel" said that worthy lady; "you'll 
lay hands on my daughter, will you? (one, two). 
You 11 insult a woman in distress, you little coward ? 
(one, two). Take that, and mind your manners, you 
filthy monster I " 

Baroski bounced up in a fury. "By Chofe, you 
shall hear of dis!" shouted he; "you shall pay me 
dis!" 

"As many more as you please, little Benjamin," 
cried the widow. "Augustus" (to the page), "was 
that the Captain's knock ? " At this Baroski made 
for his hat "Augustus, show this imperence to the 
door, and if he tries to come in again, call a police- 
man : do you hear ? " 

The music-master vanished very rapidly, and the 
two ladies, instead of being frightened or falling into 
hysterics as their betters would have done, laughed 
at the odious monster's discomfiture, as they called 
him. "Such a man as that set himself up against 
my Howard I " said Morgiana, with becoming pride ; 
but it was agreed between them that Howard should 
know nothing of what had occurred, for fear of 
quarrels, or lest he should be annoyed. So when he 
came home not a word was said; and only that his 
wife met him with more warmth than usual, you 
could not have guessed that anything extraordinary 
had occurred. It is not my fault that my heroine's 
sensibilities were not more keen, that she had not the 



272 MEN'S WIVEa 

least occasion for sal-volatile or symptom of a faint- 
ing fit; but so it was, and Mr. Howard Walker knew 
nothing of the quarrel between his wife and her 
instructor, until — 

Until he was arrested next day at the suit of Ben- 
jamin Baroski for two hundred and twenty guineas, 
and, in default of payment, was conducted by Mr. 
Tobias Larkins to his principal's lock-up house in 
Chancery Lane. 



CHAPTER V. 

i 

IK WHICH MB. WALKER FALLS INTO DIFFICULTIES, 
AND MRS. WALKER MAKES MANY FOOLISH AT- 
TEMPTS TO RESCUE HIM. 

I hope the beloved reader is not silly enough to 
imagine that Mr. Walker, on finding himself inspnnged 
for debt in Chancery Lane, was so foolish as to think 
of applying to any of his friends (those great person- 
ages who have appeared every now and then in the 
course of this little history, and have served to give 
it a fashionable air). No, no ; he knew the world too 
well ; and that, though Billingsgate would give him as 
many dozen of claret as he could carry under his belt, 
as the phrase is (I can't help it, Madam, if the phrase 
is not more genteel), and though Vauxhall would lend 
him his carriage, slap him on the back, and dine at his 
house : their lordships would have seen Mr. Walker 
depending from a beam in front of the Old Bailey 
rather than have helped him to a hundred pounds. 

And why, forsooth, should we expect otherwise in 
the world ? I observe that men who complain of its 
selfishness are quite as selfish as the world is, and no 
more liberal of money than their neighbors ; and I am 
quite sure with regard to Captain Walker that he 
would have treated a friend in want exactly as he 
when in want was treated. There was only his lady 
who was in the least afflicted by his captivity ; and as 
for the club, that went on, we are bound to say, ex- 
actly as it did on the day previous to his dis- 
appearance. 

vol. xxix. — 18 



274 MEN'S WIVEa 

By the way, about clubs, — could we not, but for 
fear of detaining the fair reader too long, enter into a 
wholesome dissertation here, on the manner of friend- 
ship established in those institutions, and the noble 
feeling of selfishness which they are likely to encour- 
age in the male race ? I put out of the question the 
stale topics of complaint, such as leaving home, en- 
couraging gormandizing and luxurious habits, etc; 
but look also at the dealings of club-men with one 
another. Look at the rush for the evening paper! 
See how Shiverton orders a fire in the dog-days, and 
Swettenham opens the windows in February. See 
how Gramley takes the whole breast of the turkey on 
his plate, and how many times Jenkins sends away his 
beggarly half-pint of sherry ! Clubbery is organized 
egotism. Club intimacy is carefully and wonderfully 
removed from friendship. You meet Smith for twenty 
years, exchange the day's news with him, laugh with 
him over the last joke, grow as well acquainted as two 
men may be together — and one day, at the end of the 
list of members of the club, you read in a little 
paragraph by itself, with all the honors, 

MEMBER DECEASED. 

Smithy John, Esq. ; 

or he, on the other hand, has the advantage of reading 
your own name selected for a similar typographical 
distinction. There it is, that abominable little exclu- 
sive list at the end of every club catalogue — you can't 
avoid it I belong to eight clubs myself, and know that 
one year Fitz-Boodle, George Savage, Esq. (unless it 
should please fate to remove my brother and his six 
sons, when of course it would be Fitz-Boodle, Sir George 
Savage, Bart), will appear in the dismal category. 



THE RAVENSWING. 275 

There is that list ; down I must go in it : — the day 
will come, and I sha'n't be seen in the bow-window, 
some one else will be sitting in the vacant arm-chair : 
the rubber will begin as usual, and yet somehow Fitz 
will not be there. " Where 's Fitz ? " says Trumping- 
ton, just arrived from the Rhine. " Don't you know ? n 
says Punter, turning down his thumb to the carpet. 
" You led the club, I think ? " says Ruff to his part- 
ner (the other partner I ), and the waiter snuffs the 
candles, 

I hope in the course of the above little pause, every 
single member of a club who reads this has profited 
by the perusal. He may belong, I say, to eight clubs, 
he will die and not be missed by any of the five thou- 
sand members. Peace be to him ; the waiters will for- 
get him, and his name will pass away, and another 
great-coat will hang on the hook whence his own used 
to be dependent 

And this, I need not say, is the beauty of the club- 
institutions. If it were otherwise, — if, forsooth, we 
were to be sorry when our friends died, or to draw 
out our purses when our friends were in want, we 
should be insolvent, and life would be miserable. Be 
it ours to button up our pockets and our hearts ; 
and to make merry — it is enough to swim down this 
life-stream for ourselves ; if Poverty is clutching hold 
of our heels, or Friendship would catch an arm, kick 
them both off. Every man for himself, is the word, 
and plenty to do too. 

My friend Captain Walker had practised the above 
maxims so long and resolutely as to be quite aware 
when he came himself to be in distress, that not a 
single soul in the whole universe would help him, and 
he took his measures accordingly. 



276 MEN'S WIVKa 

When carried to Mr. Bendigo's look-up house, he 
summoned that gentleman in a very haughty way, 
took a blank banker's check out of his pocket-book, 
and filling it up for the exact sum of the writ, orders 
Mr. Bendigo forthwith to open the door and let him 
go forth. 

Mr. Bendigo, smiling with exceeding archness, and 
putting a finger covered all over with diamond rings 
to his extremely aquiline nose, inquired of Mr. Walker 
whether he saw anything green about his face ? in- 
timating by this gay and good-humored interrogatory 
his suspicion of the unsatisfactory nature of the doc- 
ument handed over to him by Mr. Walker. 

" Hang it, sir ! " says Mr. Walker, " go and get the 
check cashed, and be quick about it Send your man 
in a cab, and here 's a half-crown to pay for it." The 
confident air somewhat staggers the bailiff, who asked 
him whether he would like any refreshment while his 
man was absent getting the amount of the check, and 
treated his prisoner with great civility during the 
time of the messenger's journey. 

But as Captain Walker had but a balance of two 
pounds five and twopence (this sum was afterwards 
divided among his creditors, the law expenses being 
previously deducted from it), the bankers of course 
declined to cash the Captain's draft for two hundred 
and odd pounds, simply writing the words "no ef- 
fects" on the paper; on receiving which reply Walker, 
far from being cast down, burst out laughing very 
gayly, produced a real five-pound note, and called 
upon his host for a bottle of champagne, which the 
two worthies drank in perfect friendship and good- 
humor. The bottle was scarcely finished, and the 
young Israelitish gentleman who acts as waiter in 
Cursitor Street had only time to remove the flask and 



THE BAVENSWING. 277 

the glasses, when poor Morgiana with a flood of tears 
rushed into her husband's arms, and flung herself 
on his neck, and calling him her "dearest, blessed 
Howard/' would have fainted at his feet ; but that 
he, breaking out in a fury of oaths, asked her how, 
after getting him into that scrape through her infer- 
nal extravagance, she dared to show her face before 
him? This address speedily frightened the poor 
thing out of her fainting fit — there is nothing so 
good for female hysterics as a little conjugal stern- 
ness, nay brutality, as many husbands can aver who 
are in the habit of employing the remedy. 

"My extravagance, Howard?" said she, in a faint 
way; and quite put off her purpose of swooning by 
the sudden attack made upon her — "Surely, my love, 
you have nothing to complain of — " 

"To complain of, Ma'am?" roared the excellent 
Walker. " Is two hundred guineas to a music-master 
nothing to complain of ? Did you bring me such a 
fortune as to authorize your taking guinea lessons ? 
Have n't I raised you out of your sphere of life and 
introduced you to the best of the land ? Have n't I 
dressed you like a duchess ? Have n't I been for you 
such a husband as very few women in the world ever 
had, Madam ? — answer me that" 

"Indeed, Howard, you were always very kind," 
sobbed the lady. 

" Have n't I toiled and slaved for you, — been out 
all day working for you ? Have n't I allowed your 
vulgar old mother to come to your house — to my 
house, I say ? Haven't I done all this ?" 

She could not deny it, and Walker, who was in a 
rage (and when a man is in a rage, for what on earth 
is a wife made for but that he should vent his rage 
on her ?), continued for some time in this strain, and 



278 MEN'S WIVBS. 

so abused, frightened, and overcame poor Morgiana, 
that she left her husband fully convinced that she 
was the most guilty of beings, and bemoaning his 
double bad fortune, that her Howard was ruined and 
she the cause of his misfortunes. 

When she was gone, Mr. Walker resumed his 
equanimity (for he was not one of those men whom 
a few months of the King's Bench were likely to 
terrify), and drank several glasses of punch in com- 
pany with his host ; with whom in perfect calmness 
he talked over his affairs. That he intended to pay 
his debt and quit the sponging-house next day is a 
matter of course; no one ever was yet put in a spong- 
ing-house that did not pledge his veracity he intended 
to quit it to-morrow. Mr. Bendigo said he should be 
heartily glad to open the door to him, and in the 
meantime sent out diligently to see among his friends 
if there were any more detainers against the Captain, 
and to inform the Captain's creditors to come forward 
against him. 

Morgiana went home in profound grief, it may be 
imagined, and could hardly refrain from bursting into 
tears when the sugar-loaf page asked whether master 
was coming home early, or whether he had taken his 
key ; she lay awake tossing and wretched the whole 
night, and very early in the morning rose up, and 
dressed, and went out 

Before nine o'clock she was in Cursitor Street, and 
once more joyfully bounced into her husband's arms ; 
who woke up yawning and swearing somewhat, with 
a severe headache, occasioned by the jollification of 
the previous night : for, strange though it may seem, 
there are perhaps no places in Europe where jollity 
is more practised than in prisons for debt ; and I de- 
clare for my own part (I mean, of course, that I went 



THE BAVENSWING. 279 

to visit a friend) I have dined at Mr. AminadaVs as 
sumptuously as at Long's. 

But it is necessary to account for Morgiana's joy- 
fulness; which was strange in her husband's per- 
plexity, and after her sorrow of the previous night. 
Well, then, when Mrs. Walker went out in the morn- 
ing, she did so with a very large basket under her 
arm. " Shall I carry the basket, Ma'am ? " said the 
page, seizing it with much alacrity. 

"No, thank you," cried his mistress! with equal 
eagerness : " it 's only — " 

" Of course, Ma'am," replied the boy, sneering, " I 
knew it was that." 

" Glass," continued Mrs. Walker, turning extremely 
red. " Have the goodness to call a coach, sir, and not 
to speak till you are questioned." 

The young gentleman disappeared upon his errand : 
the coach was called and came. Mrs. Walker slipped 
into it with her basket, and the page went down stairs 
to his companions in the kitchen, and said, " It 's a 
comin' ! master 'a in quod, and missus has gone out to 
pawn the plate." When the cook went out that day, 
she somehow had by mistake placed in her basket a 
dozen of table-knives and a plated egg-stand. When 
the lady's-maid took a walk in the course of the after- 
noon, she found she had occasion for eight cambric 
pocket-handkerchiefs (marked with her mistress's 
cipher), half a dozen pair of shoes, gloves, long and 
short, some silk stockings, and a gold-headed scent- 
bottle. " Both the new cashmeres is gone," said she, 
" and there '8 nothing left in Mrs. Walker's trinket- 
box but a paper of pins and an old coral bracelet" 
As for the page, he rushed incontinently to his mas- 
ter's dressing-room and examined every one of the 
pockets of his clothes; made a parcel of some of 



280 MEN'S WIVES. 

them, and opened all the drawers which Walker had 
not locked before his departure. He only found 
three-half-pence and a bill-stamp, and about forty- 
five tradesmen's accounts, neatly labelled and tied 
up with red tape. These three worthies, a groom, 
who was a great admirer of Trimmer the lady's-maid, 
and a policeman, a friend of the cook's, sat down to 
a comfortable dinner at the usual hour, and it was 
agreed among them all that Walker's ruin was cer- 
tain. The cook made the policeman a present of a 
china punch-bowl which Mrs. Walker had given her ; 
and the lady's-maid gave her friend the "Book of 
Beauty" for last year, and the third volume of 
Byron's poems from the drawing-room table. 

"I'm dash'd if she ain't taken the little French 
clock, too," said the page, and so indeed Mrs. Walker 
had ; it slipped in the basket where it lay enveloped 
in one of her shawls, and then struck madly and un- 
naturally a great number of times, as Morgiana was 
lifting her store of treasures out of the hackney-coach. 
The coachman wagged his head sadly as he saw her 
walking as quick as she could under her heavy load, 
and disappearing round the corner of the street at 
which Mr. Balls's celebrated jewelry establishment 
is situated. It is a grand shop, with magnificent 
silver cups and salvers, rare gold-headed canes, flutes, 
watches, diamond brooches, and a few fine specimens 
of the old masters in the window, and under the 
words — 

BALL8, JEWELLKB. 

you read, 

Money Lent. 

in the very smallest type on the door. 

The interview with Mr. Balls need not be de- 
scribed; but it must have been a satisfactory one, 



THE. RAVENSWING. 281 

for at the end of half an hour Morgiana returned and 
bounded into the coach with sparkling eyes, and told 
the driver to gallop to Cursitor Street ; which, smil- 
ing, he promised to do, and accordingly set off in that 
direction at the rate of four miles an hour. "I 
thought so," said the philosophic charioteer. "When 
a man '8 in quod, a woman don't mind her silver 
spoons ; " and he was so delighted with her action, 
that he forgot to grumble when she came to settle 
accounts with him, even though she gave him only 
double his fare. 

" Take me to him," said she to the young Hebrew 
who opened the door. 

" To whom ? " says the sarcastic youth ; " there 's 
twenty hints here. You're precious early." 

" To Captain Walker, young man," replied Morgiana 
haughtily ; whereupon the youth opening the second 
door, and seeing Mr. Bendigo in a flowered dressing- 
gown descending the stairs exclaimed, "Papa, here 's 
a lady for the Captain." " I 'm come to free him," 
said she, trembling and holding out a bundle of bank- 
notes. " Here 's the amount of your claim, sir — two 
hundred and twenty guineas, as you told me last 
night." The Jew took the notes, and grinned as he 
looked at her, and grinned double as he looked at his 
son, and begged Mrs. Walker to step into his study 
and take a receipt. When the door of that apartment 
closed upon the lady and his father, Mr. Bendigo the 
younger fell back in an agony of laughter, which it is 
impossible to describe in words, and presently ran out 
into a court where some of the luckless inmates of the 
house were already taking the air, and communicated 
something to them which made those individuals also 
laugh as uproariously as he had previously done. 

Well, after joyfully taking the receipt from Mr. 



MSN'S WIVES. 

Bendigo (how her cheeks flashed and her heart flat- 
tered as she dried it on the blotting-book !), and after 
turning very pale again on hearing that the Captain 
had had a very bad night, — " And well he might, poor 
dear!" said she (at which Mr. Bendigo, having no 
person to grin at, grinned at a marble bast of Mr. 
Pitt, which ornamented his sideboard), — Morgiana, I 
say, these preliminaries being concluded, was con- 
ducted to her husband's apartment, and once more 
flinging her arms round her dearest Howard's neck, 
told him, with one of the sweetest smiles in the world, 
to make haste and get up and come home, for break- 
fast was waiting and the carriage at the door. 

"What do you mean, love?' 1 said the Captain, 
starting up and looking exceedingly surprised. 

"I mean that my dearest is free ; that the odious 
little creature is paid — at least the horrid bailiff is." 

"Have you been to Baroski ? " said Walker, turn- 
ing very red. 

" Howard ! " said the wife, quite indignant. 

"Did — did your mother give you the money?" 
asked the Captain. 

"No; I had it by me," replies Mrs. Walker, with 
a very knowing look. 

Walker was more surprised than ever. " Have you 
any more money by you ? " said he. 

Mrs. Walker showed him her purse with two guin- 
eas. " That is all, love," she said. " And I wish/' con- 
tinued she, "you would give me a draft to pay a 
whole list of little bills that have somehow all come 
in within the last few days." 

" Well, well, you shall have the check," continued 
Mr. Walker, and began forthwith to make his toilet, 
which completed, he rung for Mr. Bendigo, and his 
bill, and intimated his wish to go home directly. 



THE RAVENSWING. 263 

The honored bailiff brought the bill, but with regard 
to his being free, said it was impossible. 

"How impossible?" said Mrs. Walker, turning 
very red and then very pale. " Did I not pay just 
now?". 

"So you did, and you've got the reshipt; but 
there 's another detainer against the Captain for a 
hundred and fifty. Eglantine and Mossrose, of Bond 
Street ; — perfumery for five years, you know." 

" You don't mean to say you were such a fool as to 
pay without asking if there were any more detain- 
ers ? " roared Walker to his wife. 

"Yes she was though," chuckled Mr. Bendigo; 
"but she'll know better the next time : and, besides, 
Captain, what 's a hundred and fifty pounds to you ? " 

Though Walker desired nothing so much in the 
world at that moment as the liberty to knock down 
his wife, his sense of prudence overcame his desire 
for justice : if that feeling may be called prudence on 
his part, which consisted in a strong wish to cheat the 
bailiff into the idea that he (Walker) was an exceed- 
ingly respectable and wealthy man. Many worthy 
persons indulge in this fond notion, that they are im- 
posing upon the world ; strive to fancy, for instance, 
that their bankers consider them men of property be- 
cause they keep a tolerable balance, pay little trades- 
men's bills with ostentatious punctuality, and so forth, 
— but the world, let us be pretty sure, is as wise as 
need be, and guesses our real condition with a mar- 
vellous instinct, or learns it with curious skill. The 
London tradesman is one of the keenest judges of 
human nature extant; and if a tradesman, how much 
more a bailiff? In reply to the ironic question, 
"What's a hundred and fifty pounds to you?" 
Walker, collecting himself, answers, " It is an infa* 



284 MEN'8 WIVEa 

mous imposition, and I owe the money no more than 
you do ; but, nevertheless, I shall instruct my lawyers 
to pay it in the course of the morning : under pro- 
test, of course." 

"Oh, of course/' said Mr. Bendigo, bowing and 
quitting the room, and leaving Mrs. Walker to the 
pleasure of a tete-a-tete with her husband. 

And now being alone with the partner of his bosom, 
the worthy gentleman began an address to her which 
cannot be put down on paper here ; because the world 
is exceedingly squeamish, and does not care to hear 
the whole truth about rascals, and because the fact is 
that almost every other word of the Captain's speech 
was a curse, such as would shock the beloved reader 
were it put in print 

Fancy, then, in lieu of the conversation, a scoundrel 
disappointed and in a fury, wreaking his brutal 
revenge upon an amiable woman, who sits trembling 
and pale, and wondering at this sudden exhibition of 
wrath. Fancy how he clenches his fists and stands 
over her, and stamps and screams out curses with a 
livid face, growing wilder and wilder in his rage; 
wrenching her hand when she wants to turn away, 
and only stopping at last when she has fallen off the 
chair in a fainting fit, with a heart-breaking sob that 
made the Jew-boy who was listening at the key-hole 
turn quite pale and walk away. Well, it is best, 
perhaps, that such a conversation should not be told 
at length : — at the end of it, when Mr. Walker had 
his wife lifeless on the floor, he seizes a water-jug 
and poured it over her ; which operation pretty soon 
brought her to herself, and shaking her black ringlets, 
she looked up once more again timidly into his face, 
and took his hand, and began to cry. 

He spoke now in a somewhat softer voice, and let 




Poor Morgiana! 






ASTOR.LEMOX 
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS. 



THE RAYENSWING. 286 

her keep paddling on with his hand as before ; he 
could tit speak very fiercely to the poor girl in her 
attitude of defeat, and tenderness, and supplication. 
"Morgiana," said he, "your extravagance and care- 
lessness have brought me to ruin, I 'm afraid If 
you'd chosen to have gone to Baroski, a word from 
you would have made him withdraw the writ, and my 
property would n't have been sacrificed, as it has now 
been, for nothing. It may n't be yet too late, how- 
ever, to retrieve ourselves. This bill of Eglantine's is 
a regular conspiracy, I am sure, between Mossrose 
and Bendigo here : you must go to Eglantine — he 's 
an old — an old flame of yours, you know." 

She dropped his hand. "I can't go to Eglantine 
after what has passed between us," she said; but 
Walker's face instantly began to wear a certain look, 
and she said with a shudder, "Well, well, dear, I will 
go." " Tou will go to Eglantine, and ask him to take a 
bill for the amount of this shameful demand — at any 
date, never mind whati- "Miiid^ however, to see him 
alone, and I'm sure if you choose you can settle the 
business. Make haste; set off directly, and come 
back, as there may be more detainers in." 

Trembling, and in a great flutter, Morgiana put on 
her bonnet and gloves and went towards the door. 
" It '8 a fine morning," said Mr. Walker, looking out : 
" a walk will do you good ; and — Morgiana — did n't 
you say you had a couple of guineas in your 
pocket?" 

" Here it is," said she, smiling all at once, and hold- 
ing up her face to be kissed. She paid the two guineas 
for the kiss. Was it not a mean act ? "Is it possible 
that people can love where they do not respect ? " says 
Miss Prim: "/never would." Nobody asked you, Miss 
Prim : but recollect Morgiana was not born with your 



286 HEN'S WIVEa 

advantages of education and breeding ; and was, in 
fact, a poor vulgar creature, who loved Mr. Walker, 
not because her mamma told her, nor because he was 
an exceedingly eligible and well-brought-up young 
man, but because she could not help it, and knew no 
better. Nor is Mrs. Walker set up as a model of 
virtue ; ah, no ! when I want a model of virtue I will 
call in Baker Street, and ask for a sitting of my dear 
(if I may be permitted to say so) Miss Prim. 

We have Mr. Howard Walker safely housed in Mr. 
Bendigo's establishment in Gursitor Street, Chancery 
Lane ; and it looks like mockery and want of feeling 
towards the excellent hero of this story (or, as should 
rather be said, towards the husband of the heroine), 
to say what he might have been but for the unlucky 
little circumstance of Baroski's passion for Morgiana. 

If Baroski had not fallen in love with Morgiana, he 
would not have given her two hundred guineas' worth 
of lessons ; he would not have so far presumed as to 
seize her hand, and attempt to kiss it ; if he had not 
attempted to kiss her, she would not have boxed his 
ears ; he would not have taken out the writ against 
Walker; Walker would have been free, very possi- 
bly rich, and therefore certainly respected: he 
always said that a month's more liberty would have 
set him beyond the reach of misfortune. 

The assertion is very likely a correct one; for 
Walker had a flashy, enterprising genius, which ends 
in wealth sometimes, in the King's Bench not seldom, 
occasionally, alas, in Van Diemen's Land ! He might 
have been rich, could he have kept his credit, and had 
not his personal expenses and extravagances pulled 
him jdown. He had gallantly availed himself of his 
wif e's fortune ; nor could any man in London, as he 
proudly said, have made five hundred pounds go so 



THE RAVENSWING. 287 

far. He had, as we have seen, furnished a house, 
sideboard, and cellar with it ; he had a carriage, and 
horses in his stable, and with the remainder he had 
purchased shares in four companies — of three of 
which he was founder and director, had conducted 
innumerable bargains in the foreign stocks, had lived 
and entertained sumptiously, and made himself a very 
considerable income. He had set up The Capitol 
Loan and Life Assurance Company, had discovered 
the Chimborazo gold mines, and the Society for Re- 
covering and Draining the Pontine Marshes; capital 
ten millions; patron his Holiness the Pope. It 
certainly was stated in an evening paper that His 
Holiness had made him a Knight of the Spur, and had 
offered to him the rank of Count ; and he was raising 
a loan for his Highness the Cacique of Panama, who 
has sent him (by way of dividend) the grand cordon 
of his Highness's order of the Castle and Falcon, 
which might be seen any day at his office in Bond 
Street, with the parchments signed and sealed by the 
Grand Master and Falcon King-at-Arms of his High- 
ness. In a week more, Walker would have raised a 
hundred thousand pounds on his Highness's twenty 
per cent loan ; he would have had fifteen thousand 
pounds commission for himself; his companies would 
have risen to par, he would have realized his shares ; 
he would have gone into Parliament ; he would have 
been made a baronet, who knows ? a peer, probably ! 
" And I appeal to you, sir," Walker would say to his 
f riends, " could any man have shown better proof of 
his affection for his wife, than by laying out her little 
miserable money as I did ? They call me heartless, 
sir, because I did n't succeed ; sir, my life has been a 
series of sacrifices for that woman, such as no man 
ever performed before." 



288 MEN'S WIVES. 

A proof of Walker's dexterity and capability for 
business may be seen in the fact that he had actually 
appeased and reconciled one of his bitterest enemies 
— our honest friend Eglantine. After Walker's mar- 
riage, Eglantine, who had now no mercantile dealings 
with his former agent, became so enraged with him, 
that, as the only means of revenge in his power, he 
sent him in his bill for goods supplied to the amount 
of one hundred and fifty guineas, and sued him for 
the amount. But Walker stepped boldly oyer to his 
enemy, and in the course of half an hour they were 
friends. 

Eglantine promised to forego his claim ; and accepted 
in lieu of it three £100 shares of the ex-Panama stock, 
bearing 25 per cent, payable half-yearly at the house 
of Hocus Brothers, St Swithin's Lane ; three £100 
shares, and the second class of the order of the Castle 
and Falcon, with the ribbon and badge. "In four 
years, Eglantine, my boy, I hope to get you the Grand 
Cordon of the order," said Walker : " I hope to see 
you a Knight Grand Cross, with a grant of a hun- 
dred thousand acres reclaimed from the Isthmus." 

To do my poor Eglantine justice, he did not care 
for the hundred thousand acres — it was the star that 
delighted him : — ah 1 how his fat chest heaved with 
delight as he sewed on the cross and ribbon to his 
dress coat, and lighted up four wax candles and 
looked at himself in the glass. He was known to 
wear a great-coat after that — it was that he might 
wear the cross under it. That year he went on a trip 
to Boulogne. He was dreadfully ill during the voy- 
age, but as the vessel entered the port he was seen to 
emerge from the cabin, his coat open, the star blazing 
on his chest ; the soldiers saluted him as he walked 
the streets ; he was called Monsieur le Chevalier, and 



THE BAVENSWING. 289 

when lie went home he entered into negotiations with 
Walker, to purchase a commission in his Highness's 
service. Walker said he would get him the nominal 
rank of Captain, the fees at the Panama War Office 
were five-and-twenty pounds, which sum honest Eg- 
lantine produced, and had his commission, and a pack 
of visiting cards printed as Captain Archibald Eglan- 
tine, EL C. F. Many a time he looked at them as 
they lay in his desk, and he kept the cross in his 
dressing-table, and wore it as he shaved every morning. 
His Highness the Cacique, it is well known, came 
to England, and had lodgings in Regent Street, where 
he held a levee, at which Eglantine appeared in the 
Panama uniform, and was most graciously received 
by his Sovereign. His Highness proposed to make 
Captain Eglantine his aide-de-camp with the rank of 
Colonel, but the Captain's exchequer was rather low at 
that moment, and the fees at the War Office were 
peremptory. Meanwhile his Highness left Eegent 
Street, was said by some to have returned to Panama, 
by others to be in his native city of Cork, by others 
to be leading a life of retirement in the New Cut, 
Lambeth ; at any rate was not visible for some time, 
so that Captain Eglantine's advancement did not take 
place. Eglantine was somehow ashamed to mention 
his military and chivalric rank to Mr. Mossrose, when 
that gentleman came into partnership with him ; and 
left these facts secret, until they were detected by a 
very painful circumstance. On the very day when 
Walker was arrested at the suit of Benjamin Baroski, 
there appeared in the newspapers an account of the 
imprisonment of his Highness the Prince of Panama, 
for a bill owing to a licensed victualler in Ratcliff High- 
way. The magistrate to whom the victualler subse- 
quently came to complain, passed many pleasantries 
VOL. zxix. — 19 



290 MEN'S WIVE& 

on the occasion. He asked whether his Highness 
did not drink like a swan with two necks ; whether 
he had brought any Belles savages with him from 
Panama, and so forth ; and the whole court, said the 
report, " was convulsed with laughter, when Boniface 
produced a green and yellow ribbon with a large star 
of the order of the Castle and Falcon, with which his 
Highness proposed to gratify him, in lieu of paying 
his little bill." 

It was as he was reading the above document with 
a bleeding heart that Mr. Mossrose came in from his 
daily walk to the City. "Veil, Eglantine," says he, 
" have you heard the newsh ? " 

"About his Highness ? " 

"About your friend Valker; he's arrested for two 
hundred poundsh ! " 

Eglantine at this could contain no more ; but told 
his story of how he had been induced to accept £300 
of Panama stock for his account against Walker, and 
cursed his stars for his folly. 

"Veil, you've only to bring in another bill," said 
the younger perfumer; "swear he owes you a hun- 
dred and fifty pounds, and we'll have a writ out 
against him this afternoon." 

And so a second writ was taken out against Captain 
Walker. 

" You '11 have his wife here very likely in a day or 
two," said Mr. Mossrose to his partner ; " them chaps 
always sends their wives, and I hope you know how 
to deal with her." 

"I don't value her a fig's hend," said Eglantine. 
"I'll treat her like the dust of the hearth. After 
that woman's conduct to me, I should like to see her 
have the haudacity to come here; and if she does, 
you'll see how I'll serve her." 



THE BAVBNSWING. 291 

The worthy perfumer, was, in fact, resolved to be 
exceedingly hard-hearted in his behavior towards his 
old love, and acted over at night in bed the scene 
which was to occur when the meeting should take 
place. Oh, thought he, but it will be a grand thing to 
see the proud Morgiana on her knees to me ; and me 
a pointing to the door ; and saying, "Madam, you've 
steeled this 'eart against you, you have; — bury the 
recollection of old times, of those old times when I 
thought my 'eart would have broke, but it did n't — 
no, 'earts are made of sterner stuff. I did n't die as I 
thought I should; I stood it, and live to see the 
woman I despised at my feet — ha, ha, at my feet ! " 

In the midst of these thoughts Mr. Eglantine fell 
asleep; but it was evident that the idea of seeing 
Morgiana once more, agitated him considerably, else 
why should he have been at the pains of preparing so 
much heroism? His sleep was exceedingly fitful 
and troubled ; he saw Morgiana in a hundred shapes ; 
he dreamed that he was dressing her hair ; that he 
was riding with her to Richmond; that the horse 
turned into a dragon, and Morgiana into Woolsey, 
who took him by the throat and choked him, while 
the dragon played the key-bugle. And in the morn- 
ing when Mossrose was gone to his business in the 
City, and* he sat reading the "Morning Post" in his 
study, ah 1 what a thump his heart gave as the lady 
of his dreams actually stood before him 1 

Many a lady who purchased brushes at Eglantine's 
shop, would have given ten guineas for such a color 
as his when he saw her. His heart beat violently, he 
was almost choking in his stays : he had been pre- 
pared for the visit, but his courage failed him now it 
had come. They were both silent for some minutes. 

"You know what I am come for," at last said 



292 MEN'S WIVES. 

Morgiana from under her veil, but she put it aside as 
she spoke. 

"I — that is — yes — it's a painful affair, Mem," 
he said, giving one look at her pale face, and then 
turning away in a flurry. "I beg to refer to you 
Blunt, Hone, and Sharpus, my lawyers, Mem," he 
added, collecting himself. 

"I didn't expect this from you, Mr. Eglantine,' 9 
said the lady, and began to sob. 

"And after what's 'appened, I didn't expect a 
visit from you, Mem. I thought Mrs. Capting Walker 
was too great a dame to visit poor Harchibald Eglan- 
tine (though some of the first men in the country do 
visit him). Is there anything in which I can oblige 
you, Mem?" 

" O heavens ! " cried the poor woman ; " have I no 
friend left ? I never thought that you, too, would 
have deserted me, Mr. Archibald." 

The " Archibald," pronounced in the old way, had 
evidently an effect on the perfumer ; he winced and 
looked at her very eagerly for a moment. "What 
can I do for you, Mem ? " at last said he. 

"What is this bill against Mr. Walker, for which 
he is now in prison?" 

"Perfumery supplied for five years; that man 
used more 'air brushes than any duke in the land, 
and as for eau-de-Cologne, he must have bathed him- 
self in it. He hordered me about like a lord. He 
never paid me one shilling, — he stabbed me in my 
most vital part — but, ah ! ah 1 never mind that: and 
I said I would be revenged, and I am." 

The perfumer was quite in a rage again by this 
time, and wiped his fat face with his pocket-hand- 
kerchief, and glared upon Mrs. Walker with a most 
determined air. 



THE BAVBNSWTNG. 293 

"Revenged on whom? Archibald — Mr. Eglan- 
tine, revenged on me — on a poor woman whom yon 
made miserable ! You would not have done so once." 

"Ha! and a precious way you treated me once," 
said Eglantine: "don't talk to me, Mem, of once. 
Bury the recollection of once forhever! I thought 
my 'eart would have broke once, but no ; 'earts are 
made of sterner stuff. I did n't die as I thought I 
should ; I stood it — and I live to see the woman who 
despised me at my feet" 

" Oh, Archibald ! " was all the lady could say, and 
she fell to sobbing again: it was perhaps her best 
argument with the perfumer. 

"Oh, Harchibald, indeed!" continued he, begin- 
ning to swell ; " don't call me Harchibald, Morgiana. 
Think what a position you might have held, if you 'd 
chose : when, when — you might have called me 
Harchibald. Now it 's no use," added he, with har- 
rowing pathos ; " but though I 've been wronged, I 
can't bear to see women in tears — tell me what I 
can do ? " 

" Dear, good Mr. Eglantine, send to your lawyers 
and stop this horrid prosecution — take Mr. Walker's 
acknowledgment for the debt If he is free, he is 
sure to have a very large sum of money in a few 
days, and will pay you all. Do not ruin him — do 
not ruin me by persisting now. Be the old kind 
Eglantine you were." 

Eglantine took a hand, which Morgiana did not re- 
fuse; he thought about old times. He had known 
her since childhood almost ; as a girl he dandled her 
on his knee at the " Kidneys ; " as a woman he had 
adored her, — his heart was melted. 

" He did pay me in a sort of way," reasoned the 
perfumer with himself — " these bonds, though they 



294 MEN'S WIVES. 

are not worth much, I took 'em for better or for 
worse, and I can't bear to see her crying, and to 
trample on a woman in distress. Morgiana," he 
added, in a loud, cheerful voice, " cheer up ; I '11 give 
you a release for your husband: I will be the old 
kind Eglantine I was." 

" Be the old kind jackass you vash 1 " here roared 
a voice that made Mr. Eglantine start. " Vy, vat an 
old fat fool you are, Eglantine, to give up our just 
debts because a voman comes snivelling and crying to 
you — and such a voman, too ! " exclaimed Mr. Moss- 
rose, for his was the voice. 

" Such a woman, sir ? " cried the senior partner. 

" Yes ; such a woman — vy did n't she jilt you her- 
self ? — hasn't she been trying the same game with 
Baroski : and are you so green as to give up a hundred 
and fifty pounds because she takes a fancy to come 
vimpering here? I won't, I can tell you. The 
money 's as much mine as it is yours, and I '11 have 
it, or keep Walker's body, that 's what I will." 

At the presence of bis partner, the timid good 
genius of Eglantine, which had prompted him to 
mercy and kindness, at once outspread its frightened 
wings and flew away. 

" You see how it is, Mrs. W.," said he, looking 
down ; " it 's an affair of business — • in all these here 
affairs of business Mr. Mossrose is the managing 
man ; ain't you, Mr. Mossrose ? " 

" A pretty business it would be if I was n't," re- 
plied Mossrose doggedly. " Come, Ma'am," says he, 
" I '11 tell you vat I do : I take fifty per shent ; not 
a farthing less — give me that, and out your husband 

068." 

" Oh, sir, Howard will pay you in a week." 

" Well, den let him stop at my uncle Bendigo's for 



THE RAVENSWING. 295 

a week, and come out den — he 's very comfortable 
there," said Shylock with a grin. " Had n't you better 
go to the shop, Mr. Eglantine," continued he, " and 
look after your business ? Mrs. Walker can't want 
you to listen to her all day." 

Eglantine was glad of the excuse, and slunk out of 
the studio; not into the shop but into his parlor; 
where he drank off a great glass of Maraschino, and 
sat blushing and exceedingly agitated, until Mossrose 
came to tell him that Mrs. W. was gone, and would n't 
trouble him any more. But although he drank several 
more glasses of Maraschino, and went to the play that 
night, and to the cider-cellars afterwards, neither the 
liquor, nor the play, nor the delightful comic songs 
at the cellars, could drive Mrs. Walker out of his 
head, and the memory of old times, and the image of 
her pale weeping face. 

Morgiana tottered out of the shop, scarcely heed- 
ing the voice of Mr. Mossrose, who said, " I '11 take 
forty per shent " (and went back to his duty cursing 
himself for a soft-hearted fool for giving up so much 
of his rights to a puling woman). Morgiana, I say, 
tottered out of the shop, and went up Conduit Street, 
weeping, weeping with all her eyes. She was quite 
faint, for she had taken nothing that morning but the 
glass of water which the pastry-cook in the Strand 
had given her, and was forced to take hold of the 
railings of a house for support, just as a little gentle- 
man with a yellow handkerchief under his arm was 
issuing from the door. 

"Good heavens, Mrs. Walker!" said the gentle- 
man. It was no other than Mr. Woolsey, who was 
going forth to try a body-coat for a customer; "are 
you ill? — what's the matter? for God's sake come 
in I " and he took her arm under his, and led her into 



296 MEN'S WIVES. 

his back parlor, and seated her, and had some wine 
and water before her in one minute, before she had 
said one single word regarding herself. 

As soon as she was somewhat recovered, and with 
the interruption of a thousand sobs, the poor thing 
told as well as she could her little story. Mr. Eglan- 
tine had arrested Mr. Walker: she had been trying 
to gain time for him ; Eglantine had refused. 

"The hard-hearted, cowardly brute to refuse her 
anything!" said loyal Mr. Woolsey. "My dear," 
said he, " I *ve no reason to love your husband, and I 
know too much about him to respect him ; but I love 
and respect you, and will spend my last shilling to 
serve you." At which Morgiana could only take his 
hand and cry a great deal more than ever. She said 
Mr. Walker would have a great deal of money in a 
week, that he was the best of husbands, and she was 
sure Mr. Woolsey would think better of him when he 
knew him; that Mr. Eglantine's bill was one hun- 
dred and fifty pounds, but that Mr. Mossrose would 
take forty per cent, if Mr. Woolsey could say how 
much that was. 

"I'll pay a thousand pound to do you good," said 
Mr. Woolsey, bouncing up; "stay here for ten min- 
utes, my dear, until my return, and all shall be right, 
as you will see." He was back in ten minutes, and 
had called a cab from the stand opposite (all the 
coachmen there had seen and commented on Mrs. 
Walker's woe-begone looks), and they were off for 
Cursitor Street in a moment. "They'll settle the 
whole debt for twenty pounds," said he, and showed 
an order to that effect from Mr. Mossrose to Mr. 
Bendigo, empowering the latter to release Walker on 
receiving Mr. Woolsey's acknowledgment for the 
above sum. 



THE RAVENSWING. 297 

" There 's no use paying it," said Mr. Walker, 
doggedly, " it would only be robbing you, Mr. Wool- 
sey, — seven more detainers have come in while my 
wife has been away. I must go through the court 
now ; but " he added in a whisper to the tailor, " my 
good sir, my debts of honor are sacred, and if you 
will have the goodness to lend me the twenty pounds, 
I pledge you my word as a gentleman to return it 
when I come out of quod." 

It is probable that Mr. Woolsey declined this, for 
as soon as he was gone, Walker, in a tremendous 
fury, began cursing his wife for dawdling three hours 
on the road. "Why the deuce, Ma'am, didn't you 
take a cab?" roared he, when he heard she had 
walked to Bond Street. "Those writs have only 
been in half an hour, and I might have been off but 
for you." 

"Oh, Howard," said she, "didn't you take — 
didn't I give you my — my last shilling?" and fell 
back and wept again more bitterly than ever. 

"Well, love," said her amiable husband, turning 
rather red, " never mind, it was n't your fault. It is 
but going through the court. It's no great odds. I 
forgive you." 



CHAPTER VL 

IN WHICH MR. WALKER STILL REMAINS IN DIFFICUL- 
TIES, BUT SH0W8 GREAT RESIGNATION UNDER HIS 
MISFORTUNES. 

The exemplary Walker, seeing that escape from 
his enemies was hopeless, and that it was his duty as 
a man to turn on them and face them, now deter- 
mined to quit the splendid though narrow lodgings 
which Mr. Bendigo had provided for him, and un- 
dergo the martyrdom of the Meet. Accordingly, in 
company with that gentleman, he came over to her 
Majesty's prison, and gave himself into the custody 
of the officers there ; and did not apply for the ac- 
commodation of the rules (by which in those days the 
captivity of some debtors was considerably lightened), 
because he knew perfectly well that there was no 
person in the wide world who would give a security 
for the heavy sums for which Walker was answer- 
able. What these sums were is no matter, and on 
this head we do not think it at all necessary to satisfy 
the curiosity of the reader. He may have owed hun- 
dreds — thousands, his creditors only can tell; he 
paid the dividend which has been formerly men- 
tioned, and showed thereby his desire to satisfy all 
claims upon him to the uttermost farthing. 

As for the little house in Connaught Square, when, 
after quitting her husband, Morgiana drove back 
thither, the door was opened by the page, who 



THE BAVENSWING. 299 

instantly thanked her to pay his wages ; and in the 
drawing-room, on a yellow satin sofa, sat a seedy 
man (with a pot of porter beside him placed on an 
album for fear of staining the rosewood table), and 
the seedy man signified that he had taken possession 
of the furniture in execution for a judgment debt. 
Another seedy man was in the dining-room, reading a 
newspaper and drinking gin; he informed Mrs. 
Walker that he was the representative of another 
judgment debt and of another execution : — " There 's 
another on 'em in the kitchen," said the page, "tak- 
ing an inwentory of the furniture ; and he swears 
he'll have you took up for swindling, for pawning 
the plate." 

" Sir," said Mr. Woolsey, for that worthy man had 
conducted Morgiana home — "sir," said he, shaking 
his stick at the young page, " if you give any more of 
your impudence I'll beat every button off your 
jacket:" and as there were some four hundred of 
these ornaments, the page was silent It was a great 
mercy for Morgiana that the honest and faithful 
tailor had accompanied her. The good fellow had 
waited very patiently for her for an hour in the par- 
lor or coffee-room of the lock-up house, knowing full 
well that she would want a protector on her way 
homewards ; and his kindness will be more appreci- 
ated when it is stated that, during the time of his 
delay in the coffee-room, he had been subject to the 
entreaties, nay, to the insults of Cornet Fipkin of the 
Blues, who was in prison at the suit of Linsey, Wool- 
sey, and Co., and who happened to be taking his 
breakfast in the apartment when his obdurate credi- 
tor entered it. The cornet (a hero of eighteen, who 
stood at least five feet three in his boots, and owed 
fifteen thousand pounds) was so enraged at the ob- 



300 MEN'S WIVES. 

duracy of his creditor that he said he would have 
thrown him out of the window but for the bars which 
guarded it; and entertained serious thoughts of 
knocking the tailor's head off, but that the latter, 
putting his right leg forward and his fists in a proper 
attitude, told the young officer to "come on;" on 
which the cornet cursed the tailor for a " snob," and 
went back to his breakfast. 

The execution people having taken charge of Mr. 
Walker's house, Mrs. Walker was driven to take 
refuge with her mamma near " Sadler's Wells," and 
the Captain remained comfortably lodged in the Fleet 
He had some ready money, and with it managed to 
make his existence exceedingly comfortable. He 
lived with the best society of the place, consisting of 
several distinguished young noblemen and gentlemen. 
He spent the morning playing at fives and smoking 
cigars ; the evening smoking cigars and dining com- 
fortably. Cards came after dinner ; and, as the Cap- 
tain was an experienced player, and near a score of 
years older than most of his friends, he was generally 
pretty successful: indeed if he had received all the 
money that was owed to him, he might have come out 
of prison and paid his creditors twenty shillings in 
the pound — that is, if he had been minded to do so. 
But there is no use in examining into that point too 
closely, for the fact is, young Fipkin only paid him 
forty pounds out of seven hundred, for which he gave 
him L 0. U.'8 ; Algernon Deuceace not only did not 
pay him three hundred and twenty which he lost at 
blind hookey, but actually borrowed seven and six- 
pence in money from Walker, which has never been 
repaid to this day; and Lord Doublequits actually 
lost nineteen thousand pounds to him at heads and 
tails, which he never paid, pleading drunkenness and 



THE BAYENSWING. 901 

his minority. The reader may recollect a paragraph 
which went the round of the papers entitled, " Affair 
of Manor in the Fleet Prison.— Yesterday morning 
(behind the pump in the second court) Lord D-bl- 
qu-ts and Captain H-w-rd W-lk-r (a near relative, we 
understand, of his Grace the Duke of N-rf-lk) had a 
hostile meeting and exchanged two shots. These 
two young sprigs of nobility were attended to the 
ground by Major Flush, who, by the way, is flush no 

longer, and Captain Pam, late of the Dragoons. 

Play is said to have been the cause of the quarrel, 
and the gallant Captain is reported to have handled 
the noble lord's nose rather roughly at one stage of 
the transactions." When Morgiana at "Sadler's 
Wells " heard these news, she was ready to faint with 
terror ; and rushed to the Fleet Prison, and embraced 
her lord and master with her usual expansion and fits 
of tears : very much to that gentleman's annoyance, 
who happened to be in company with Pam and Flush 
at the time, and did not care that his handsome wife 
should be seen too much in the dubious precincts of 
the Fleet He had at least so much shame about 
him, and had always rejected her entreaties to be 
allowed to inhabit the prison with him. 

"It is enough," would he say, casting his eyes 
heavenward, and with a most lugubrious countenance 
— " it is enough, Morgiana, that / should suffer, even 
though your thoughtlessness has been the cause of 
my ruin. But enough of that! I will not rebuke 
you for faults for which I know you are now repent- 
ant ; and I never could bear to see you in the midst 
of the miseries of this horrible place. Remain at 
home with your mother, and let me drag on the 
weary days here alone. If you can get me any more 
of that pale sherry, my love, do. I require some- 



302 MEN'S WIVES. 

thing to cheer me in solitude, and have found my 
chest very much relieved by that wine. Put more 
pepper and eggs, my dear, into the next veal-pie you 
make me. I can't eat the horrible messes in the 
coffee-room here." 

It was Walker's wish, I can't tell why, except that 
it is the wish of a great number of other persons in 
this strange world, to make his wife believe that he 
was wretched in mind and ill in health ; and all as- 
sertions to this effect the simple creature received 
with numberless tears of credulity: she would go 
home to Mrs. Crump, and say how her darling 
Howard was pining away, how he was ruined for 
her, and with what angelic sweetness he bore his 
captivity. The fact is, he bore it with so much res- 
ignation that no other person in the world could see 
that he was unhappy. His life was undisturbed by 
duns ; his day was his own from morning till night ; 
his diet was good, his acquaintances jovial, his purse 
tolerably well supplied, and he had not one single 
care to annoy him. 

Mrs. Crump and Woolsey, perhaps, received Mor- 
giana's account of her husband's miseries with some 
incredulity. The latter was now a daily visitor to 
"Sadler's Wells." His love for Morgiana had be- 
come a warm, fatherly, generous regard for her; it 
was out of the honest fellow's cellar that the wine 
used to come which did so much good to Mr. 
Walker's chest; and he tried a thousand ways to 
make Morgiana happy. 

A very happy day, indeed, it was when, returning 
from her visit to the Fleet, she found in her mother's 
sitting-room her dear grand rosewood piano, and 
every one of her music-books, which the kind-hearted 
tailor had purchased at the sale of Walker's effects. 



THE RAVENSWING. 303 

And I am not ashamed to say that Morgiana her- 
self was so charmed, that when, as usual, Mr. Wool- 
sey came to drink tea in the evening, she actually 
gave him a kiss ; which frightened Mr. Woolsey, and 
made him blush exceedingly. She sat down, and 
played him that evening every one of the songs 
which he liked — the old songs — none of your Italian 
stuff. Podmore, the old music-master, was there too, 
and was delighted and astonished at the progress in 
singing which Morgiana had made ; and when the 
little party separated, he took Mr. Woolsey by the 
hand, and said, " Give me leave to tell you, sir, that 
you 're a trump." 

"That he is," said Canterfield, the first tragic ; "an 
honor to human nature. A man whose hand is open 
as day to melting charity, and whose heart ever melts 
at the tale of woman's distress." 

"Pooh, pooh, stuff and nonsense, sir," said the 
tailor; but, upon my word, Mr. Ganterfield's words 
were perfectly correct. I wish as much could be 
said in favor of Woolsey's old rival, Mr. Eglantine, 
who attended the sale too, but it was with a horrid 
kind of satisfaction at the thought that Walker was 
ruined. He bought the yellow satin sofa before 
mentioned, and transferred it to what he calls his 
" sitting-room," where it is to this day, bearing many 
marks of the best bears' grease. Woolsey bid against 
Baroski for the piano, very nearly up to the actual 
value of the instrument, when the artist withdrew 
from competition ; and when he was sneering at the 
ruin of Mr. Walker, the tailor sternly interrupted him 
by saying, "What the deuce are you sneering at? 
You did it, sir : and you 're paid every shilling of your 
claim, ain't you ? " On which Baroski turned round 
to Miss Larkins, and said, "Mr. Woolsey was a 



304 MEN'S WIVES. 

' snop ; ' " the very words, though pronounced some- 
what differently, which the gallant Cornet Fipkin had 
applied to him. 

Well ; so he was a snob. But, vulgar as he was, I 
declare, for my part, that I have a greater respect for 
Mr. Woolsey than for any single nobleman or gentle- 
man mentioned in this true history. 

It will be seen from the names of Messrs. Can- 
terfield and Podmore that Morgiana was again in 
the midst of the widow Crump's favorite theatrical 
society ; and this, indeed, was the case. The widow's 
little room was hung round with the pictures which 
were mentioned at the commencement of the story 
as decorating the bar of the " Bootjack ; " and several 
times in a week she received her friends from the 
" Wells," and entertained them with such humble 
refreshments of tea and crumpets as her modest 
means permitted her to purchase. Among these 
persons Morgiana lived and sung quite as contentedly 
as she had ever done among the demireps of her 
husband's society ; and, only she did not dare to own 
it to herself, was a great deal happier than she had 
been for many a day. Mrs. Captain Walker was still 
a great lady amongst them. Even in his ruin, 
Walker, the director of three companies, and the 
owner of the splendid pony-chaise, was to these 
simple persons an awful character; and when men- 
tioned, they talked with a great deal of gravity of 
his being in the country, and hoped Mrs. Captain W. 
had good news of him. They all knew he was in the 
Fleet ; but had he not in prison fought a duel with 
a viscount ? Montmorency (of the Norfolk circuit) 
was in the Fleet too ; and when Canterfield went to 
see poor Montey, the latter had pointed out Walker 
to his friend, who actually hit Lord George Tennison 



THE RAVENSWING. 305 

across the shoulders in play with a racket-bat ; which 
event was soon made known to the whole green- 
room. 

"They had me np one day," said Montmorency, 
"to sing a comic song, and give my recitations; and 
we had champagne and lobster-salad: such nobs !" 
added the player. " Billingsgate and Vauxhall were 
there too, and left college at eight o'clock. 9 ' 

When Morgian^i was told of the circumstance by 
her mother, she hoped her dear Howard had enjoyed 
the evening, and was thankful that for once he could 
forget his sorrows. Nor, somehow, was she ashamed 
of herself for being happy afterwards, but gave way 
to her natural good-humor without repentance or self- 
rebuke. I believe, indeed (alas! why are we made 
acquainted with the same fact regarding ourselves 
long after it is past and gone?), — I believe these 
were the happiest days of Morgiana's whole life. 
She had no cares except the pleasant one of attend- 
ing on her husband, an easy, smiling temperament 
which made her regardless of to-morrow ; and, add to 
this, a delightful hope relative to a certain interesting 
event which was about to occur, and which I shall not 
particularize further than by saying, that she was 
cautioned against too much singing by Mr. Squills, 
her medical attendant; and that widow Crump was 
busy making up a vast number of little caps and di- 
minutive cambric shirts, such as delighted grand- 
mothers are in the habit of fashioning. I hope this 
is as genteel a way of signifying the circumstance 
which was about to take place in the Walker family 
as Miss Prim herself could desire. Mrs. Walker's 
mother was about to become a grandmother. There 's 
a phrase! The "Morning Post," which says this 
story is vulgar, I 'm sure cannot quarrel with that. I 
VOL. xxix.— 20 



306 MEN'S WIVES. 

don't believe the whole " Court Guide " would convey 
an intimation more delicately. 

Welly Mrs. Crump's little grandchild was born, 
entirely to the dissatisfaction, I must say, of his 
father ; who, when the infant was brought to him in 
the Fleet, had him abruptly covered up in his cloak 
again, from which he had been removed by the jealous 
prison door-keepers; why, do you think? Walker 
had a quarrel with one of them, an£ the wretch per- 
sisted in believing that the bundle Mrs. Crump was 
bringing to her son-in-law was a bundle of disguised 
brandy I 

" The brutes ! " said the lady ; " and the father 's a 
brute too," said she. "He takes no more notice of 
me than if I was a kitchen-maid, and of Woolsey than 
if he was a leg of mutton — the dear, blessed little 
cherub ! " 

Mrs. Crump was a mother-in-law ; let us pardon her 
hatred of her daughter's husband. 

The Woolsey compared in the above sentence both 
to a leg of mutton and a cherub, was not the eminent 
member of the firm of Linsey, W&olsey, and Co., but 
the little baby, who was christened Howard Woolsey 
Walker, with the full consent of the father ; who said 
the tailor was a deuced good fellow, and felt really 
obliged to him for the sherry, for a frock-coat which 
he let him have in prison, and for his kindness to 
Morgiana. The tailor loved the little boy with all his 
soul ; he attended his mother to her churching, and 
the child to the font ; and, as a present to his little 
godson on his christening, he sent two yards of the 
finest white kerseymere in his shop to make him a 
cloak. The Duke had had a pair of inexpressibles 
off that very piece. 

House-furniture is bought and sold, music-lessons 



THB RAVENSWING. 807 

are given, children are born and christened, ladies are 
confined and churched — time, in other words, passes 
— and yet Captain Walker still remains in prison! 
Does it not seem strange that he should still languish 
there between palisaded walls near Fleet Market, and 
that he should not be restored to that active and 
fashionable world of which he was an ornament? 
The fact is, the Captain had been before the Court 
for the examination of his debts; and the Commis- 
sioner, with a cruelty quite shameful towards a fallen 
man, had qualified his ways of getting money in most 
severe language, and had sent him back to prison 
again for the space of nine calendar months, an in- 
definite period, and until his accounts could be made 
up. This delay Walker bore like a philosopher, and, 
far from repining, was still the gayest fellow of the 
tennis-court, and the soul of the midnight carouse. 

There is no use in raking up old stories, and hunt- 
ing through files of dead newspapers, to know what 
were the specific acts which made the Commissioner 
so angry with Captain Walker. Many a rogue has 
come before the Court, and passed through it since 
then : and I would lay a wager that Howard Walker 
was not a bit worse than his neighbors. But as he 
was not a lord, and as he had no friends on coming 
out of prison, and had settled no money on his wife, 
and had, as it must be confessed, an exceedingly bad 
character, it is not likely that the latter would be for- 
given him when once more free in the world. For in- 
stance, when Doublequit8 left the Fleet, he was 
received with open arms by his family, and had two- 
and-thirty horses in his stables before a week was 
over. Pam, of the Dragoons, came out, and instantly 
got a place as government courier, — a place found so 
good of late years (and no wonder, it is better pay 



308 MEN'S WIVES. 

than that of a colonel), that our noblemen and gentry 
eagerly press for it Frank Hurricane was sent out 
as registrar of Tobago, or Sago, or Ticonderago ; in 
fact, for a younger son of good family it is rather ad- 
vantageous to get into debt twenty or thirty thousand 
pounds ; you are sure of a good place afterwards in the 
colonies. Your friends are so anxious to get rid of 
you, that they will move heaven and earth to serve 
you. And so all the above companions of misfortune 
with Walker were speedily made comfortable ; but he 
had no rich parents ; his old father was dead in York 
jaiL How was he to start in the world again? 
What friendly hand was there to fill his pocket with 
gold, and his cup with sparkling champagne ? He 
was, in fact, an object of the greatest pity, — for I 
know of no greater than a gentleman of his habits 
without the means of gratifying them. He must live 
well, and he has not the means. Is there a more pa- 
thetic case ? As for a mere low beggar — some labor- 
less laborer, or some weaver out of place — don't let 
us throw away our compassion upon them. Psha! 
they 're accustomed to starve. They can sleep upon 
boards, or dine off a crust; whereas a gentleman 
would die in the same situation. I think this was 
poor Morgiana's way of reasoning. For Walker's 
cash in prison beginning presently to run low, and 
knowing quite well that the dear fellow could not 
exist there without the luxuries to which he had been 
accustomed, she borrowed money from her mother, 
until the poor old lady was a see. She even con- 
fessed, with tears, to Woolsey, that she was in par- 
ticular want of twenty pounds, to pay a poor milliner, 
whose debt she could not bear to put in her husband's 
schedule. And I need not say she carried the money 
to her husband, who might have been greatly benefited 



lit 1 



i 



" ■** 





An innocent Traitor. 



' 




THE RAVKNSWING. 309 

by it, — only he had a bad run of luck at the cards j and 
how the deuce can a man help that ? 

Woolsey had repurchased for her one of the Cash- 
mere shawls. She left it behind her one day at the 
Fleet Prison, and some rascal stole it there ; having 
the grace, however, to send Woolsey the ticket, signi- 
fying the place where it had been pawned. Who could 
the scoundrel have been ? Woolsey swore a great oath, 
and fancied he knew ; but if it was Walker himself 
(as Woolsey fancied, and probably as was the case) 
who made away with the shawl, being pressed thereto 
by necessity, was it fair to call him a scoundrel for so 
doing, and should we not rather laud the delicacy of 
his proceeding ? He was poor ; who can command 
the cards ? but he did not wish his wife should know 
how poor : he could not bear that she should suppose 
him arrived at the necessity of pawning a shawl. 

She who had such beautiful ringlets, of a sudden 
pleaded cold in the head, and took to wearing caps. 
One summer evening, as she and the baby and Mrs. 
Crump and Woolsey (let us say all four babies to- 
gether) were laughing and playing in Mrs. Crump's 
drawing-room, — playing the most absurd gambols, 
fat Mrs. Crump, for instance, hiding behind the sofa, 
Woolsey chuck-chuckling, cock-a-doodle-dooing, and 
performing those indescribable freaks which gentle- 
men with philoprogenitive organs will execute in the 
company of children, — in the midst of their play 
the baby gave a tug at his mother's cap ; off it came 
— her hair was cut close to her head I 

Morgiana turned as red as sealing-wax, and trembled 
very much ; Mrs. Crump screamed, " My child, where 
is your hair?" and Woolsey, bursting out with a 
most tremendous oath against Walker that would send 
Miss Prim into convulsions, put his handkerchief to 



310 MEN'S WIVE& 

his face, and actually wept "The infernal bubble- 
ubble-ackguard ! " said he, roaring and clenching his 
fists. 

As he had passed the Bower of Bloom a few days 
before, he saw Mossrose, who was combing oat a jet- 
black ringlet, and held it up, as if for Woolsey's 
examination, with a peculiar grin. The tailor did not 
understand the joke, but he saw now what had hap- 
pened* Morgiana had sold her hair for five guineas ; 
she would have sold her arm had her husband bidden 
her. On looking in her drawers it was found she had 
sold almost all her wearing apparel ; the child's clothes 
were all there, however. It was because her husband 
talked of disposing of a gilt coral that the child had, 
that she had parted with the locks which had formed 
her pride. 

" I '11 give you twenty guineas for that hair, you in- 
famous fat coward,'' roared the little tailor to Eglan- 
tine that evening. " Give it up, or I 'U kill you — " 

" Mr. Mossrose 1 Mr. Mossrose I " shouted the 
perfumer. 

"Veil, vateh de matter, vatsh de row, fight avay, 
my boys ; two to one on the tailor," said Mr. Moss- 
rose, much enjoying the sport (for Woolsey, striding 
through the shop without speaking to him, had rushed 
into the studio, where he plumped upon Eglantine). 

"Tell him about that hair, sir." 

"That hair! Now keep yourself quiet, Mister 
Timble, and don't tink for to bully me. You mean 
Mrs. Valker's 'air ? Vy, she sold it me." 

" And the more blackguard you for buying it ! Will 
you take twenty guineas for it ? " 

" No," said Mossrose. 

"Twenty-five?" 

" Can't," said Mossrose. 



THE BAVBNSWING. 311 

" Hang it ; will you take forty ? There I " 

" I vish I 'd kep it," said the Hebrew gentleman, 
with unfeigned regret "Eglantine dressed it this 
very night" 

"For Countess Baldenstiern, the Swedish Hambas- 
sador's lady," says Eglantine (his Hebrew partner 
was by no means a favorite with the ladies, and only 
superintended the accounts of the concern). " It 's 
this very night at Devonshire 'Ouse, with four hos- 
trich plumes, lappets, and trimmings. And now, Mr. 
Woolsey, I '11 trouble you to apologize." 

Mr. Woolsey did not answer, but walked up to Mr. 
Eglantine, and snapped his fingers so close under the 
perfumer's nose that the latter started back and seized 
the bell-rope. Mossrose burst out laughing, and the 
tailor walked majestically from the shop, with both 
hands stuck between the lappets of his coat 

"My dear," said he to Morgiana a short time after- 
wards, " you must not encourage that husband of yours 
in his extravagance, and sell the clothes off your poor 
back, that he may feast and act the fine gentleman 
in prison." 

" It is his health, poor dear soul ! " interposed Mrs. 
Walker: "his chest Every farthing of the money 
goes to the doctors, poor fellow I" 

"Well, now listen: I am a rich man" (it was a 
great fib, for Woolsey's income, as a junior partner of 
the firm, was but a small one) ; " I can very well 
afford to make him an allowance while he is in the 
Fleet, and have written to him to say so. But if you 
ever give him a penny, or sell a trinket belonging to 
you, upon my word and honor I will withdraw the 
allowance, and, though it would go to my heart, I 'U 
never see you again. Ton wouldn't make me un- 
happy, would you ? " 



312 MEN'S WIVES. 

"I'd go on my knees to serve yon, and Heaven 
bless you/' said the wife. 

"Well, then, you must give me this promise." 
And she did. " And now/' said he, " your mother, 
and Podmore, and I, have been talking over matters, 
and we 've agreed that you may make a very good in- 
come for yourself ; though, to be sure, I wish it could 
have been managed any other way ; but needs must, 
you know. You 're the finest singer in the universe." 

" La I " said Morgiana, highly delighted. 

" I never heard anything like you, though I 'm no 
judge. Podmore says he is sure you will do very 
well, and has no doubt you might get very good en- 
gagements at concerts or on the stage ; and as that 
husband will never do any good, and you have a child 
to support, sing you must." 

" Oh ! how glad I should be to pay his debts and 
repay all he has done for me," cried Mrs. Walker. 
"Think of his giving two hundred guineas to Mr. 
Baroski to have me taught Was not that kind of 
him ? Do you really think I should succeed ? " 

"There's Miss Larkins has succeeded." 

" The little, high-shouldered, vulgar thing ! " says 
Morgiana. "I'm sure I ought to succeed if she did." 

" She sing against Morgiana ? " said Mrs. Crump. 
" I 'd like to see her, indeed ! She ain't fit to snuff a 
candle to her." 

" I dare say not," said the tailor, " though I don't 
understand the thing myself; but if Morgiana can 
make a fortune, why should n't she ? " 

" Heaven knows we want it, Woolsey," cried Mrs. 
Crump. " And to see her on the stage was always the 
wish of my heart : " and so it had formerly been the 
wish of Morgiana ; and now, with the hope of helping 
her husband and child, the wish became a duty, and 



THE BAVENSWING. 313 

she fell to practising once more from morning till 
night. 

One of the most generous of men and tailors who 
ever lived now promised, if further instruction should 
be considered necessary (though that he could hardly 
believe possible), that he would lend Morgiana any 
sum required for the payment of lessons ; and accord- 
ingly she once more betook herself, under Podmore's 
advice, to the singing school. Baroski's academy 
was, after the passages between them, out of the 
question, and she placed herself under the instruction 
of the excellent English composer Sir George Thrum, 
whose large and awful wife, Lady Thrum, dragon of 
virtue and propriety, kept watch over the master and 
the pupils, and was the sternest guardian of female 
virtue on or off any stage. 

Morgiana came at a propitious moment. Baroski 
had launched Miss Larkins under the name of Ligonier. 
The Ligonier was enjoying considerable success, and 
was singing classical music to tolerable audiences, 
whereas Miss Butts, Sir George's last pupil, had turned 
out a complete failure, and the rival house was only 
able to make a faint opposition to the new star with 
Miss M'Whirter, who, though an old favorite, had 
lost her upper notes and her front teeth, and, the fact 
was, drew no longer. 

Directly Sir George heard Mrs. Walker, he tapped 
Podmore, who accompanied her, on the waistcoat, and 
said, "Poddy, thank you; we'll cut the orange-boy's 
throat with that voice." It was by the familiar title 
of orange-boy that the great Baroski was known 
among his opponents. 

"We'll crush him, Podmore," said Lady Thrum, in 
her deep hollow voice. " You may stop and dine." 
And Podmore stayed to dinner, and ate cold mutton, 



314 MEN'S WIVES. 

and drank Marsala with the greatest reverence for 
the great English composer. The very next day 
Lady Thrum hired a pair of horses, and paid a visit 
to Mrs. Crump and her daughter at " Sadler's Wells." 

All these things were kept profoundly secret from 
Walker, who received very magnanimously the allow- 
ance of two guineas a-week which Woolsey made him, 
and with the aid of the few shillings his wife could 
bring him, managed to exist as best he might. He 
did not dislike gin when he could get no claret, and 
the former liquor, under the name of "tape," used to 
be measured out pretty liberally in what was for- 
merly her Majesty's prison of the Fleet. 

Morgiana pursued her studies under Thrum, and 
we shall hear in the next chapter how it was she 
changed her name to Ravexswtnck 



CHAPTER VIL 

IK WHICH MORGIANA ADVANCES TOWARDS FAME 
AND HONOR, AND IN WHICH SEVERAL GREAT LIT- 
ERARY CHARACTERS MAKE THEIR APPEARANCE. 

" We must begin, my dear madam/ 9 said Sir George 
Thrum, "by unlearning all that Mr. Baroski (of 
whom I do not wish to speak with the slightest dis- 
respect) has taught you ! " 

Morgiana knew that every professor says as much, 
and submitted to undergo the study requisite for Sir 
George's system with perfect good grace. Au fond, 
as I was given to understand, the methods of the two 
artists were pretty similar ; but as there was rivalry 
between them, and continual desertion of scholars 
from one school to another, it was fair for each to 
take all the credit he could get in the success of any 
pupil. If a pupil failed, for instance, Thrum would 
say Baroski had spoiled her irretrievably; while the 
German would regret " Dat dat yong voman, who had 
a good organ, should have trown away her dime wid 
dat old Drum. 9 ' When one of these deserters suc- 
ceeded, " Yes, yes, 99 would either professor cry, " I 
formed her, she owes her fortune to me. 99 Both of 
them thus, in future days, claimed the education of 
the famous Bavenswing ; and even Sir George Thrum, 
though he wished to tcraser the Ligonier, pretended 
that her present success was his work, because once 
she had been brought by her mother, Mrs. Larkins, 
to sing for Sir Gteorge 9 s approval. 



316 MEN'S WIVES. 

When the two professors met it was with the most 
delighted cordiality on the part of both. " Mein 
lieber Merr," Thrum would say (with some malice), 
"your sonata in x flat is divine." " Chevalier," 
Baroski would reply, " dat andante movement in w is 
worthy of Beethoven. I gif you my sacred honor," 
and so forth. In fact, they loved each other as gen- 
tlemen in their profession always do. 

The two famous professors conduct their academies 
on very opposite principles. Baroski writes ballet 
music ; Thrum, cfn the contrary, says "he cannot bat 
deplore the dangerous fascinations of the dance," and 
writes more for Exeter Hall and Birmingham. While 
Baroski drives a cab in the Park with a very suspic- 
ious Mademoiselle L4ocadie, or Am6naide by his side, 
you may see Thrum walking to evening church with, 
his lady, and hymns are sung there of his own com- 
position. He belongs to the " Athenaeum Club," he 
goes to the levee once a-year, he does everything that 
a respectable man should, and if, by the means of this 
respectability, he manages to make his little trade far 
more profitable than it otherwise would be, are we to 
quarrel with him for it ? 

Sir George, in fact, had every reason to be respect- 
able. He had been a choir-boy at Windsor, had 
played to the old King's violoncello, had been inti- 
mate with him, and had received knighthood at the 
hand of his revered sovereign. He had a snuff-box 
which his Majesty gave him, and portraits of him 
and the young princes all over the house. He had 
also a foreign order (no other, indeed, than the Ele- 
phant and Castle of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel), con- 
ferred upon him by the Grand Duke when here with 
the allied sovereigns in 1814 With this ribbon round 
his neck, on gala days, and in a white waistcoat, the 



THE RAVENSWING. 317 

old gentleman looked splendid as he moved along in 
a blue coat with the Windsor button, and neat black 
small-clothes, and silk stockings. He lived in an old, 
tall, dingy house, furnished in the reign of George 
III., his beloved master, and not much more cheerful 
now than a family vault. They are awfully funereal, 
those ornaments of the close of the last century, — 
tall, gloomy, horse-hair chairs, mouldy Turkey carpets, 
with wretched druggets to guard them, little cracked 
sticking-plaster miniatures of people in tours and 
pigtails over high-shouldered mantel-pieces, two dis- 
mal urns on each side of a lanky side-board, and in 
the midst a queer twisted receptacle for worn-out 
knives with green handles. Under the sideboard 
stands a cellaret that looks as if it held half a bottle 
of currant wine, and a shivering plate-warmer that 
never could get any comfort out of the wretched old 
cramped grate yonder. Don't you know in such 
houses the gray gloom that hangs over the stairs, the 
dull-colored old carpet that winds its way up the 
same, growing thinner, duller, and more threadbare, 
as it mounts to the bedroom floors ? There is some- 
thing awful in the bedroom of a respectable old couple 
of sixty-five. Think of the old feathers, turbans, 
bugles, petticoats, pomatum-pots, spencers, white satin 
shoes, false fronts, the old flaccid, boneless stays tied 
up in faded ribbon, the dusky fans, the old forty- 
years-old baby-linen, the letters of Sir George when 
he was young, the doll of poor Maria, who died in 
1803, Frederick's first corduroy breeches, and the 
newspaper which contains the account of his distin- 
guishing himself at the siege of Seringapatam. All 
these lie somewhere, damp and squeezed down into 
glum old presses and wardrobes. At that glass the 
wife has sat many times these fifty years; in that 



318 MEN'S WIVB& 

old morocco bed her children were born. Where are 
they now ? Fred, the brave captain, and Charles, the 
saucy colleger; there hangs a drawing of him done 
by Mr. Beechey, and that sketch by Gosway was the 
very likeness of Louisa before — 

" Mr. Fitz-Boodle ! for Heaven's sake come down. 
What are you doing in a lady's bedroom ? n 

"The fact is, Madam, I had no business there in 
life; but, having had quite enough wine with Sir 
George, my thoughts had wandered up stairs into the 
sanctuary of female excellence, where your ladyship 
nightly reposes. You do not sleep so well now as in 
old days, though there is no patter of little steps to 
wake you overhead." 

They call that room the nursery still, and the little 
wicket still hangs at the upper stairs : it has been 
there for forty years — bon Dieu / Can't you see the 
ghosts of little faces peering over it ? I wonder 
whether they get up in the night as the moonlight 
shines into the blank, vacant old room, and play there 
solemnly with little ghostly horses, and the spirits of 
dolls, and tops that turn and turn but don't hum. 

Once more, sir, come down to the lower story — 
that is, to the Morgiana story — with which the above 
sentences have no more to do than this morning's 
leading article in " The Times ; " only it was at this 
house of Sir George Thrum's that I met Morgiana. 
Sir George, in old days, had instructed some of the 
female members of our family, and I recollect cutting 
my fingers as a child with one of these attenuated 
green-handled knives in the queer box yonder. 

In those days Sir George Thrum was the first great 
musical teacher of London, and the royal patronage 
brought him a great number of fashionable pupils, of 
whom Lady Fitz-Boodle was one. It was a long, long 



THE RAVENSWING. 319 

time ago : in fact, Sir George Thrum was old enough 
to remember persons who had been present at Mr. 
Braham's first appearance, and the old gentleman's 
days of triumph had been those of Billington and 
Incledon, Gatalani and Madame Storace. 

He was the author of several operas (" The Camel 
Driver," " Britons Alarmed ; or the Siege of Bergen- 
op-Zoom," etc etc.), and, of course, of songs which had 
considerable success in their day, but are forgotten 
now, and are as much faded and out of fashion as 
those old carpets which we have described in the 
professor's house, and which were, doubtless, very 
brilliant once. But such is the fate of carpets, of 
flowers, of music, of men, and of the most admirable 
novels — even this story will not be alive for many 
centuries. Well, well, why struggle against Fate ? 

But, though his hey-day of fashion was gone, Sir 
George still held his place among the musicians of 
the old school, conducted occasionally at the Ancient 
Concerts and the " Philharmonic," and his glees are 
still favorites after public dinners, and are sung by 
those old bacchanalians, in chestnut wigs, who attend 
for the purpose of amusing the guests on such occa- 
sions of festivity. The great old people at the gloomy 
old concerts before mentioned always pay Sir George 
marked respect ; and, indeed, from the old gentleman's 
peculiar behavior to his superiors, it is impossible 
they should not be delighted with him, so he leads at 
almost every one of the concerts in the old-fashioned 
houses in town. 

Becomingly obsequious to his superiors, he is with 
the rest of the world properly majestic, and has ob- 
tained no small success by his admirable and undevia- 
ting respectability. Respectability has been his great 
card through life ; ladies can trust their daughters at 



320 MEN'S WIVES. 

Sir George Thrum's academy. " A good musician, 
Madam/ 9 says he to the mother of a new pupil, 
"should not only have a fine ear, a good voice, and an 
indomitable industry, but, above all, a faultless char- 
acter — faultless, that is, as far as our poor nature 
will permit. And you will remark that those young 
persons with whom your lovely daughter, Miss Smith, 
will pursue her musical studies, are all, in a moral 
point of view, as spotless as that charming young 
lady. How should it be otherwise ? I have been 
myself the father of a family ; I have been honored 
with the intimacy of the wisest and best of kings, my 
late sovereign George III., and I can proudly show 
an example of decorum to my pupils in my Sophia. 
Mrs. Smith, I have the honor of introducing to you 
my Lady Thrnm. ,, 

The old lady would rise at this, and make a gigan- 
tic curtsy, such a one as had begun the minuet at 
Banelagh fifty years ago, and, the introduction ended, 
Mrs. Smith would retire, after having seen the por- 
traits of the princes, his late Majesty's snuff-box, and 
a piece of music which he used to play, noted by 
himself — Mrs. Smith, I say, would drive back to 
Baker Street, delighted to think that her Frederica 
had secured so eligible and respectable a master. I 
forgot to say that, during the interview between Mrs. 
Smith and Sir George, the latter would be called out 
of his study by his black servant, and my Lady Thrum 
would take that opportunity of mentioning when he 
was knighted, and how he got his foreign order, and 
deploring the sad condition of other musical professors, 
and the dreadful immorality which sometimes arose 
in consequence of their laxness. Sir George was a 
good deal engaged to dinners in the season, and if in- 
vited to dine with a nobleman, as he might possibly be 



THE BAVENSWING. 321 

on the day when Mrs. Smith requested the honor of his 
company, he would write back " that he should have 
had the sincerest happiness in waiting upon Mrs. 
Smith in Baker Street, if, previously, my Lord Tweed- 
ledale had not been so kind as to engage him." This 
letter, of course, shown by Mrs. Smith to her friends, 
was received by them with proper respect ; and thus, 
in spite of age and new fashions, Sir George still 
reigned pre-eminent for a mile round Cavendish 
Square. By the young pupils of the academy he was 
called Sir Charles Orandison ; and, indeed, fully de- 
served this title on account of the indomitable respec- 
tability of his whole actions. 

It was under this gentleman that Morgiana made 
her dibut in public life. I do not know what arrange- 
ments may have been made between Sir George Thrum 
and his pupil regarding the profits which were to 
accrue to the former from engagements procured by 
him for the latter ; but there was, no doubt, an under- 
standing between them. For Sir George, respectable 
as he was, had the reputation of being extremely 
clever at a bargain ; and Lady Thrum herself, in her 
great high-tragedy way, could purchase a pair of soles 
or select a leg of mutton with the best housekeeper 
in London. 

When, however, Morgiana had been for some six 
months under his tuition, he began, for some reason 
or other, to be exceedingly hospitable, and invited his 
friends to numerous entertainments ; at one of which, 
as I have said, I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. 
Walker. 

Although the worthy musician's dinners were not 
good, the old knight had some excellent wine in his 
cellar, and his arrangement of his party deserves to 
be commended. 
VOL. xxix. — 21 



322 MEN'S WIVES. 

For instance, he meets me and Bob Fitz-Urse in 
Pall Mall, at whose paternal house he was also a 
visitor. "My dear young gentlemen," says he, "will 
you come and dine with a poor musical composer ? I 
have some comet-hock, and, what is more curious to 
you perhaps, as men of wit, one or two of the great 
literary characters of London whom you would like 
to see — quite curiosities, my dear young friends." 
And we agreed to go. 

To the literary men he says, " I have a little quiet 
party at home, Lord Roundtowers, the Honorable Mr. 
Fitz-Uree of the Life Guards, and a few more. Can 
you tear yourself away from the war of wits, and take 
a quiet dinner with a few mere men about town ? " 

The literary men instantly purchase new satin 
stocks and white gloves, and are delighted to fancy 
themselves members of the world of fashion. Instead 
of inviting twelve Royal Academicians, or a dozen 
authors, or a dozen men of science to dinner, as his 

Grace the Duke of and the Bight Honorable Sir 

Robert are in the habit of doing once a year, this 

plan of fusion is the one they should adopt. Not in- 
vite all artists, as they would invite all farmers to a 
rent-dinner ; but they should have a proper comming- 
ling of artists and men of the world. There is one of 
the latter whose name is George Savage Fitz-Boodle, 
who — But let us return to Sir George Thrum. 

Fitz-Urse and I arrive at the dismal old house, and 
are conducted up the staircase by a black servant, who 
shouts out, " Missa Fiss-Boodle — the Honorable Missa 
Fiss-Urse ! " It was evident that Lady Thrum had 
instructed the swarthy groom of the chambers (for 
there is nothing particularly honorable in my friend 
Fitz's face that I know of, unless an abominable 
squint may be said to be so). Lady Thrum, whose 



£ 



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Preparing por a D£but. 



THE rev: v 
PUBLIC LIBRARY 



A9T0R, LENOX 
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS 



THE RAVENSWING. 323 

figure is something like that of the shot-tower opposite 
Waterloo Bridge, makes a majestic inclination and a 
speech to signify her pleasure at receiving under her 
roof two of the children of Sir George's best pupils. 
A lady in black velvet is seated by the old fireplace, 
with whom a stout gentleman in an exceedingly light 
coat and ornamental waistcoat is talking very busily. 
" The great star of the night," whispers our host. 
"Mrs. Walker, gentlemen — the Ravenswing I She 

is talking to the famous Mr. Slang, of the 

theatre." 

"Is she a fine singer ?" says Fitz-XJrse. "She's 
a very fine woman." 

" My dear young friends, you shall hear to-night ! 
I, who have heard every fine voice in Europe, confi- 
dently pledge my respectability that the Bavenswing 
is equal to them all. She has the graces, sir, of a 
Venus with the mind of a muse. She is a siren, 
sir, without the dangerous qualities of one. She is 
hallowed, sir, by her misfortunes as by her genius ; 
and I am proud to think that my instructions have 
been the means of developing the wondrous qualities 
that were latent within her until now.' 9 

" You don't say so ! " says gobemouche Fitz-XJrse. 

Having thus indoctrinated Mr. Fitz-Urse, Sir George 
takes another of his guests, and proceeds to work upon 
him, " My dear Mr. Bludyer, how do you do ? Mr. 
Fitz-Boodle, Mr. Bludyer, the brilliant and accom- 
plished wit, whose sallies in the " Tomahawk " delight 
us every Saturday. Nay, no blushes, my dear sir; 
you are very wicked, but oh ! so pleasant. Well, Mr. 
Bludyer, I am glad to see you, sir, and hope you will 
have a favorable opinion of our genius, sir. As I was 
saying to Mr. Fitz-Boodle, she has the graces of a 
Venus with the mind of a muse. She is a siren, with- 



324 MEN'S WIVES. 

out the dangerous qualities of one," etc This little 
speech was made to half a dozen persons in the course 
of the evening — persons, for the most part, connected 
with the public journals or the theatrical world. 
There was Mr. Squinny, the editor of the "Flowers 
of Fashion;" Mr. Desmond Mulligan, the poet, and 
reporter for a morning paper ; and other worthies of 
their calling. For though Sir George is a respectable 
man, and as high-minded and moral an old gentleman 
as ever wore knee-buckles, he does not neglect the 
little arts of popularity, and can condescend to receive 
very queer company if need be. 

For instance, at the dinner-party at which I had 
the honor of assisting, and at which, on the right 
hand of Lady Thrum sat the obligi nobleman, whom 
the Thrums were a great deal too wise to omit (the 
sight of a lord does good to us commoners, or why 
else should we be so anxious to have one ?). In the 
second place of honor, and on her ladyship's left hand, 
sat Mr. Slang, the manager of one of the theatres ; a 
gentleman whom my Lady Thrum would scarcely, but 
for a great necessity's sake, have been induced to 
invite to her table. He had the honor of leading 
Mrs. Walker to dinner, who looked splendid in black 
velvet and turban, full of health and smiles. 

Lord Boundtowers is an old gentleman who has 
been at the theatres five times a week for these fifty 
years, a living dictionary of the stage, recollecting 
every actor and actress who has appeared upon it for 
half a century. He perfectly well remembered Miss 
Delancy in Morgiana ; he knew what had become of 
Ali Baba, and how Cassim had left the stage, and was 
now the keeper of a public-house. All this store of 
knowledge he kept quietly to himself, or only 
delivered in confidence to his next neighbor in the 



THE RAVENSWING. 325 

intervals of the banquet, which he enjoys prodig- 
iously. He lives at an hotel : if not invited to dine, 
eats a mutton-chop very humbly at his club, and fin- 
ishes his evening after the play at " Crockf ord's," 
whither he goes not for the sake of the play but of the 
supper there. He is described in the " Court Guide " 
as of " Simmer's Hotel/' and of Boundtowers, county 
Cork. It is said that the round towers really exist 
But he has not been in Ireland since the rebellion ; 
and his property is so hampered with ancestral mort- 
gages, and rent-charges, and annuities, that his income 
is barely sufficient to provide the modest mutton-chop 
before alluded to. He has,, any time these fifty years, 
lived in the wickedest company in London, and is 
withal, as harmless, mild, good-natured, innocent an 
old gentleman as can readily be seen. 

"Roundy," shouts the elegant Mr. Slang, across the 
table, with a voice which makes Lady Thrum shudder, 
" Tuff, a glass of wine." 

My lord replies meekly, "Mr. Slang, I shall have 
very much pleasure. What shall it be ? " 

"There is Madeira near you, my lord," says my 
lady, pointing to a tall thin decanter of the fashion of 
the year. 

"Madeira! Marsala, by Jove, your ladyship means ! " 
shouts Mr. Slang. " No, no, old birds are not caught 
with chaff. Thrum, old boy, let '8 have some of your 
comet-hock. ,, 

"My Lady Thrum, I believe that is Marsala !" 
says the knight, blushing a little in reply to a question 
from his Sophia. " Ajax, the hcftk to Mr. Slang/ 1 

" I 'm in that," yells Bludyer from the end of the 
table. " My lord, I 'U join you." 

"Mr. >I beg your pardon — I shall be very 

happy to take wine with you, sir." 



326 MEN'S WIVE& 

"It is Mr. Bludyer, the celebrated newspaper 
writer," whispers Lady Thrum. 

"Bludyer, Bludyer? A very clever man, I dare 
say. He has a very loud voice, and reminds me of 
Brett Does your ladyship remember Brett, who 
played the ' Fathers ' at the Haymarket in 1802 ? " 

" What an old stupid Roundtowers is ! " says Slang, 
archly, nudging Mrs. Walker in the side. "How's 
Walker, eh ? " 

"My husband is in the country/ 1 replied Mrs. 
Walker, hesitatingly. 

" Gammon ! I know where he is I Law bless you 
— don't blush. I 've been there myself a dozen 
times. We were talking about quod, Lady Thrum. 
Were you ever in college ? " 

" I was at the Commemoration at Oxford in 1814, 
when the sovereigns were there, and at Cambridge 
when Sir George received his degree of Doctor of 
Music." 

" Laud, Laud, that 9 8 not the college we mean." 

" There is also the college in Gower Street, where 
my grandson — " 

" This is the college in Queer Street, Ma'am, haw, 
haw! Mulligan, you diwle (in an Irish accent), a 
glass of wine with you. Wine, here, you waiter! 
What 's your name, you black nigger ? 'Possum up 
a gum-tree, eh ? Fill him up. Dere he go " (imitat- 
ing the Mandingo manner of speaking English). 

In this agreeable way would Mr. Slang rattle on, 
speedily making himself the centre of the conversa- 
tion, and addressing* graceful familiarities to all the 
gentlemen and ladies round him. 

It was good to see how the little knight, the most 
moral and calm of men, was compelled to receive Mr. 
Slang's stories, and the frightened air with which, at 



THE RAVENSWING. 327 

the conclusion of one of them, he would venture upon 
a commendatory grin. His lady, on her part too, had 
been laboriously civil ; and, on the occasion on which 
I had the honor of meeting this gentleman and Mrs. 
Walker, it was the latter who gave the signal for with- 
drawing to the lady of the house, by saying, " I think, 
Lady Thrum, it is quite time for us to retire." Some 
exquisite joke of Mr. Slang's was the cause of this 
abrupt disappearance. But, as they went up stairs 
to the drawing-room, Lady Thrum took occasion to 
say, " My dear, in the course of your profession you 
will have to submit to many such familiarities on the 
part of persons of low breeding, such as I fear Mr. 
Slang is. But let me caution you against giving way 
to your temper as you did. Did you not perceive that 
/never allowed him to see my inward dissatisfaction ? 
And I make it a particular point that you should be 
very civil to him to-night. Your interests — our in- 
terests — depend upon it." 

" And are my interests to make me civil to a wretch 
like that?" 

" Mrs. Walker, would you wish to give lessons in 
morality and behavior to Lady Thrum ? " said the 
old lady, drawing herself up with great dignity. It 
was evident that she had a very strong desire indeed 
to conciliate Mr. Slang; and hence I have no doubt 
that Sir George was to have a considerable share of 
Morgiana's earnings. 

Mr. Bludyer, the famous editor of the "Toma- 
hawk," whose jokes Sir George pretended to admire 
so much (Sir George who never made a joke in his 
life), was a press bravo of considerable talent and no 
principle, and who, to use his own words, would 
" back himself for a slashing article against any man 
in England ! " He would not only write, but fight on 



328 MEN'S WIVES. 

a pinch ; was a good scholar, and as savage in his 
manner as with his pen. Mr. Squinny is of exactly 
the opposite school, as delicate as milk and water, 
harmless in his habits, fond of the flute when the 
state of his chest will allow him, a great practiser of 
waltzing and dancing in general, and in his journal 
mildly malicious. He never goes beyond the bounds 
of politeness, but manages to insinuate a great deal 
that is disagreeable to an author in the course of 
twenty lines of criticism. Personally he is quite 
respectable, and lives with two maiden aunts at 
Brompton. Nobody, on the contrary, knows where 
Mr. Bludyer lives. He has houses of call, mysterious 
taverns where he may be found at particular hours by 
those who need him, and where panting publishers 
are in the habit of hunting him up. For a bottle of 
wine and a guinea he will write a page of praise or 
abuse of any man living, or on any subject, or on 
any line of politics. " Hang it, sir," says he, " pay 
me enough and I will write down my own father ! " 
According to the state of his credit, he is dressed 
either almost in rags or else in the extremest flush 
of fashion. With the latter attire he puts on a 
haughty and aristocratic air, and would slap a duke 
on the shoulder. If there is one thing more danger- 
ous than to refuse to lend him a sum of money when 
he asks for it, it is to lend it to him ; for he never 
pays, and never pardons a man to whom he owes. 
" Walker refused to cash a bill for me," he had been 
heard to say, " and I '11 do for his wife when she comes 
out on the stage ! " Mrs. Walker and Sir George 
Thrum were in an agony about the " Tomahawk ; " 
hence the latter's invitation to Mr. Bludyer. Sir 
George was in a great tremor about the " Flowers of 
Fashion," hence his invitation to Mr. Squinny, Mr. 



THE RAVENSWING. 329 

Squinny was introduced to Lord Roundtowers and 
Mr. Fitz-Urse as one of the most delightful and 
talented of our young men of genius ; and Fitz, who 
believes everything any one tells him, was quite 
pleased to have the honor of sitting near the live 
editor of a paper. I have reason to think that Mr. 
Squinny himself was no less delighted: I saw him 
giving his card to Fitz-Urse at the end of the second 
course. 

No particular attention was paid to Mr. Desmond 
Mulligan. Political enthusiasm is his forte. He 
lives and writes in a rapture. He is, of course, a 
member of an inn of court, and greatly addicted to 
after-dinner speaking as a preparation for the bar, 
where as a young man of genius he hopes one day to 
shine. He is almost the only man to whom Bludyer 
is civil, for, if the latter will fight doggedly when 
there is a necessity for so doing, the former fights like 
an Irishman, and has a pleasure in it. He has been 
"on the ground" I don't know how many times, and 
quitted his country on account of a quarrel with Govern- 
ment regarding certain articles published by him in the 
"Phoenix " newspaper. With the third bottle, he be- 
comes over-poweringly gfeat on the wrongs of Ireland, 
and at that period generally volunteers a couple or more 
of Irish melodies, selecting the most melancholy in the 
collection. At five in the afternoon, you are sure to 
see him about the House of Commons, and he knows 
the "Reform Club" (he calls it the Refawrum) as 
well as if he were a member. It is curious for the 
contemplative mind to mark those mysterious hangers- 
on of Irish members of Parliament — strange runners 
and aides-de-camp which all the honorable gentlemen 
appear to possess. Desmond, in his political capacity, 



MEN'S WIVES. 

is one of these, and besides his calling as reporter to 
a newspaper, is " oar well-informed correspondent " 
of that famous Monster paper, the "Green flag of 
Skibbereen." 

With Mr. Mulligan's qualities and history I only 
became subsequently acquainted. On the present 
evening he made but a brief stay at the dinner-table, 
being compelled by his professional duties to attend 
the House of Commons. 

The above formed the party with whom I had the 
honor to dine. What other repasts Sir George Thrum 
may have given, what assemblies of men of mere 
science he may have invited to give their opinion re- 
garding his prodigy, what other editors of papers he 
may have pacified or rendered favorable, who knows ? 
On the present occasion, we did not quit the dinner- 
table until Mr. Slang the manager was considerably 
excited by wine, and music had been heard for some 
time in the drawing-room overhead during our ab- 
sence. An addition had been made to the Thrum 
party by the arrival of several persons to spend the 
evening, — a man to play on the violin between the 
singing, a youth to play on the piano, Miss Horsman 
to sing with Mrs. Walker and other scientific charac- 
ters. In a corner sat a red-faced old lady, of whom 
the mistress of the mansion took little notice ; and a 
gentleman with a royal button, who blushed and 
looked exceedingly modest. 

" Hang me I" says Mr. Bludyer, who had perfectly 
good reasons for recognizing Mr. Woolsey, and who 
on this day chose to assume his aristocratic air; 
" there 's a tailor in the room ! What do they mean 
by asking me to meet tradesmen ? " 

" Delancy, my dear," cries Slang, entering the room 
with a reel, " how 's your precious health ? Give us 



THE RAVENSWING. 331 

your hand! When are we to be married? Make 
room for me on the sofa, that 's a duck ! " 

" Get along, Slang/' says Mrs. Crump, addressed by 
the manager by her maiden name (artists generally 
drop the title of honor which people adopt in the 
world, and call each other by their simple surnames) 
— " get along, Slang, or I '11 tell Mrs. 8. ! " The en- 
terprising manager replies by sportively striking Mrs. 
Crump on the side a blow which causes a great giggle 
from the lady insulted, and a most good-humored 
threat to box Slang's ears. I fear very much that 
Morgiana's mother thought Mr. Slang an exceedingly 
gentlemanlike and agreeable person ; besides, she was 
eager to have his good opinion of Mrs. Walker's 
singing. 

The manager stretched himself out with much 
gracefulness on the sofa, supporting two little dumpy 
legs encased in varnished boots on a chair. 

" Ajax, some tea to Mr. Slang," said my lady, look- 
ing towards that gentleman with a countenance ex- 
pressive of some alarm, I thought. 

" That 's right, Ajax, my black prince ! " exclaimed 
Slang, when the negro brought the required refresh- 
ment ; " and now I suppose you '11 be wanted in the 
orchestra yonder. Don't Ajax play the cymbals, Sir 
George ? " 

"Ha, ha, ha! very good — capital I" answered the 
knight, exceedingly frightened; "but ours is not a 
military band. Miss Horsman, Mr. Craw, my dear 
Mrs. Bavenswing, shall we begin the trio ? Silence, 
gentlemen, if you please, it is a little piece from my 
opera of the 'Brigand's Bride.' Miss Horsman takes 
the Page's part, Mr. Craw is Stiletto the Brigand, my 
accomplished pupil is the Bride;" and the music 
began.. 



332 MEN'S WIVES. 

*« The Bride. 
" My heart with joy is beating. 
My eyes with tears are dim ; 

u The Page. 
u Her heart with joy is beating, 
Her eyes are fixed on him ; 

"The Brigand. 
" My heart with rage is beating, 
In blood my eyeballs swim ! " 

What may have been the merits of the music or the 
singing, I, of course, cannot guess. Lady Thrum sat 
opposite the teacups, nodding her head and beating 
time very gravely. Lord Roundtowers, by her side, 
nodded his* head too, for a while, and then fell asleep. 
I should have done the same but for the manager, 
whose actions were worthy of remark. He sang with 
all the three singers, and a great deal louder than any 
of them ; he shouted bravo ! or hissed as he thought 
proper ; he criticised all the points of Mrs. Walker's 
person. "She'll do, Crump, she'll do — a splendid 
arm — you'll see her eyes in the shilling gallery! 
What sort of a foot has she ? She's five feet three, if 
she's an inch ! Bravo — slap up — capital — hurra !" 
and he concluded by saying, with the aid of the Ra- 
vens wing, he would put Ligonier's nose out of joint! 

The enthusiasm of Mr. Slang almost reconciled 
Lady Thrum to the abruptness of his manners, and 
even caused Sir George to forget that his chorus had 
been interrupted by the obstreperous familiarity of 
the manager. 

"And what do you think, Mr. Bludyer," said the 
tailor delighted that his pratigie should be thus win- 
ning all hearts, "isn't Mrs. Walker a tip-top singer, 
eh, sir ? " 



THE RAVENSWING. 833 

" I think she 's a very bad one, Mr. Woolsey : " said 
the illustrious author, wishing to abbreviate all com- 
munications with a tailor to whom he owed forty 
pounds. 

" Then, sir/' says Mr. Woolsey, fiercely, " I '11 — I '11 
thank you to pay me my little bill ! " 

It is true there was no connection between Mrs. 
Walker's singing and Woolsey's little bill ; that the 
" Then, sir," was perfectly illogical on Woolsey's part ; 
but it was a very happy hit for the future fortunes of 
Mrs. Walker. Who knows what would have come of 
her dtbut but for that "Then, sir," and whether a 
"smashing article" from the "Tomahawk" might 
not have ruined her forever ? 

" Are you a relation of Mrs. Walker's ? " said Mr. 
Bludyer, in reply to the angry tailor. 

"What's that to you, whether I am or not ?" re- 
plied Woolsey, fiercely. "But I 'mthe friend of Mrs. 
Walker, sir ; proud am I to say so, sir ; and, as the 
poet says, sir, ' a little learning's a dangerous thing,' 
sir ; and I think a man who don't pay his bills may 
keep his tongue quiet at least, sir, and not abuse a 
lady, sir, whom everybody else praises, sir. You 
sha'n't humbug me any more, sir ; you shall hear from 
my attorney to-morrow, so mark that ! " 

" Hush, my dear Mr. Woolsey," cried the literary 
man, "don't make a noise; come into this window : 
is Mrs. Walker really a friend of yours ? " 

"I've told you so, sir." 

" Well, in that case, I shall do my utmost to serve 
her ; and, look you, Woolsey, any article you choose 
to &end about her to the " Tomahawk " I promise you 
1 11 put in." 

" Will you, though ? then we '11 say nothing about 
the little bill." 



334 MEN'S WIVES. 

"You may do on that point,' 1 answered Bludyer, 
haughtily, " exactly as yon please. I am not to be 
frightened from my duty, mind that; and mind, too, 
that I can write a slashing article better than any man 
in England: I could crush her by ten lines.' 1 

The tables were now turned, and it was Woolsey's 
turn to be alarmed. 

" Pooh ! pooh I I was angry," said he, " because you 
abused Mrs. Walker, who's an angel on earth; but 
I'm very willing to apologize. I say — come — let 
me take your measure for some new clothes, eh! 
Mr. B.?" 

"I'll come to your shop," answered the literary 
man, quite appeased. "Silence! they're beginning 
another song." 

The songs, which I don't attempt to describe (and, 
upon my word and honor, as far as / can understand 
matters, I believe to this day that Mrs. Walker was 
only an ordinary singer), — the songs lasted a great 
deal longer than I liked ; but I was nailed, as it were, 
to the spot, having agreed to sup at Knightsbridge 
barracks with Fitz-Urse whose carriage was ordered 
at eleven o'clock. 

" My dear Mr. Fitz-Boodle," said our old host to me, 
"you can do me the greatest service in the world." 

"Speak, sir!" said I. 

"Will you ask your honorable and gallant friend, 
the Captain, to drive home Mr. Squinny to Bromp- 
ton?" 

" Can't Mr. Squinny get a cab ? " 

Sir George looked particularly arch. "General- 
ship, my dear young friend, — a little harmless 
generalship. Mr. Squinny will not give much for 
my opinion of my pupil, but he will value very highly 
the opinion of the Honorable Mr. Fitz-Urse." 



THE RAVENSWING. 836 

For a moral man, was not the little knight a clever 
fellow? He had bought Mr. Squinny for a dinner 
worth "ten shillings, and for a ride in a carriage with 
a lord's son. Squinny was carried to Brompton, and 
set down at his aunt's door, delighted with his new 
friends, and exceedingly sick with a cigar they had 
made him smoke* 



CHAPTER VIH. 

IN WHICH MB. WALKEB SHOWS GREAT PRUDENCE 
AND FORBEABANCB. 

The describing of all these persons does not ad- 
vance Morgiana's story much. But, perhaps, some 
country readers are not acquainted with the class of 
persons by whose printed opinions they are guided, 
and are simple enough to imagine that mere merit 
will make a reputation on the stage or elsewhere. 
The making of a theatrical success is a much more 
complicated and curious thing than such persons 
fancy it to be. Immense are the pains taken to get a 
good word from Mr. This of the "Star," or Mr. That 
of the " Courier," to propitiate the favor of the critic 
of the day, and get the editors of the metropolis into 
a good humor, — above all, to have the name of the 
person to be puffed perpetually before the public. 
Artists cannot be advertised like Macassar oil or 
blacking, and they want it to the fall as much; hence 
endless ingenuity must be practised in order to keep 
the popular attention awake. Suppose a great actor 
moves from London to Windsor, the "Brentford 
Champion" must state, that "Yesterday Mr. Blazes 
and suite passed rapidly through our city ; the cele- 
brated comedian is engaged, we hear, at Windsor, to 
give some of his inimitable readings of our great 
national bard to the most illustrious audience in the 
realm." This piece of intelligence the "Hammer- 
smith Observer" will question the next week, as 



THE RAVENSWING. 337 

thus: — "A contemporary, the 'Brentford Cham- 
pion/ says that Blazes is engaged to give Shaks- 
pearean readings at Windsor to 'the most illustrious 
audience in the realm.* We question this fact very 
much. We would, indeed, that it were true ; but the 
most illustrious audience in the realm prefer foreign 
melodies to the native wood-notes wild of the song- 
bird of Avon. Mr. Blazes is simply gone to Eton, 
where his son, Master Massinger Blazes, is suffering, 
we regret to hear, under a severe attack of the 
chicken-pox. This complaint (incident to youth) has 
raged, we understand, with frightful virulence in 
Eton School." 

And if, after the above paragraphs, some London 
paper chooses to attack the folly of the provincial 
press, which talks of Mr. Blazes, and chronicles his 
movements, as if he were a crowned head, what harm 
is done ? Blazes can write in his own name to the 
London journal and say that it is not his fault if 
provincial journals choose to chronicle his move- 
ments, and that he was far from wishing that the 
afflictions of those who are dear to him should form 
the subject of public comment, and be held up to 
public ridicule. "We had no intention of hurting 
the feelings of an estimable public servant," writes 
the editor; "and our remarks on the chicken-pox 
were general, not personal. We sincerely trust that 
Master Massinger Blazes has recovered from that 
complaint, and that he may pass through the measles, 
the whooping-cough, the fourth form, and all other 
diseases to which youth is subject, with comfort to 
himself, and credit to his parents and teachers." At 
his next appearance on the stage after this contro- 
versy, a British public calls for Blazes three times 
after the play ; and somehow there is sure to be some 
vol. xzix. — 22 



338 MEN'S WIVES. 

one with a laurel-wreath in a stage-box, who flings 
that chaplet at the inspired artist's feet 

I don't know how it was, bat before that dibut of 
Morgiana, the English press began to heave and throb 
in a convulsive manner, as if indicative of the near 
birth of some great thing. For instance, you read in 
one paper, — 

u Anecdote of Karl Maria Von Weber. — When the author 
of * Oberon ' was in England, he was invited by a noble duke to 
dinner, and some of the most celebrated of our artists were 
assembled to meet him. The signal being given to descend to 
the salle~a-manger t the German composer was invited by his 
noble host (a bachelor) to lead the way. 'Is it not the 
fashion in your country,' said he, simply, ' for the man of the 
first eminence to take the first place? Here is one whose 
genius entitles him to be first anywhere.' And, so saying, he 
pointed to our admirable English composer, Sir George Thrum. 
The two musicians were friends to the last, and Sir George 
has still the identical piece of rosin which the author of the 
* Freischutz ' gave him," — The Moon (morning paper), 2d June. 

u George III. a composer. — Sir George Thrum has in his 
possession the score of an air, the words from ' Samson Agon- 
istes,' an autograph of the late revered monarch. We hear 
that that excellent composer has in store for us not only an 
opera, but a pupil, with whose transcendant merits the HxU of 
our aristocracy are already familiar." — Ibid. June 5. 

"Music with a Vengeance. — The march to the sound of 
which the 49th and 75th regiments rushed up the breach of 
Badajoz was the celebrated air from * Briton's Alarmed ; or, 
the Siege of Bergen-op-Zoon/ by our famous English composer, 
Sir George Thrum. Marshal Davoust said that the French 
line never stood when that air was performed to the charge of 
the bayonet. We hear the veteran musician has an opera now 
about to appear, and have no doubt that Old England will now, 
as then, show its superiority over all foreign opponents."— 
Albion. 



THE RAVENSWING. 330 

" We have been accused of preferring the produit of As 
itranger to the talent of our own native shores ; but those who 
speak so, little know us. We are fdnaticiper la manca where- 
ever it be, and welcome merit dans chaque pays du monde. 
What do we say ? Le mdrite n'a point de pays, as Napoleon 
said; and Sir George Thrum (Chevalier de l'ordre de Elephant 
et Cb&teau, de Panama) is a maestro whose fame apparUent 
d r Europe. 

"We have just heard the lovely elieve, whose rare qualities 
the cavaliere has brought to perfection, — We have heard Thi 
Ravenswing (powrquoi cocker un nom que demain un monde va 
miner), and a creature more beautiful and girled never bloomed 
before done no$ climate. She sang the delicious duet of the 
'Nabucodonosore,' with Count Pizzicato with a beletssa, a 
grandema, a raggio, that excited in the bosom of the audience 
a corresponding furore : her scherzando was exquisite, though 
we confess we thought the concluding fioritura in the passage 
in y flat a leetle, a Very leetle sforzata. Surely the words, 

'GioTDod'orrore, 
Delire, dolore, 
K&bucodonosore/ 

should be given andante, and not con strepito : but this is a 
faute bien Ugere in the midst of such unrivalled excellence, 
and only mentioned here that we may have something to 
criticise. 

" We hear that the enterprising impresario of one of the 
royal theatres has made an engagement with the Diva ; and, 
if we have a regret, it is that she should be compelled to sing 
in the unfortunate language of our rude northern dime, which 
does not preHer itself near so well, to the bocca of the cantatrice 
as do the mellifluous accents of the Lingua Toecana, the langue 
par excellence of song. 

"The Ravenswing's voice is a magnificent contra-basso of 
nine octaves." etc — Flowers of Fashion, June 10. 

" Old Thrum, the composer, is bringing out an opera and a 
pupil. The opera is good, the pupil first-rate. The opera will 
do much more than compete with the infernal twaddle and 



340 MEN'S WIVES. 

disgusting slip-slop of Donizetti, and the milk-and-water 
fools who imitate him : it will (and we ask the readers of the 
' Tomahawk,' were we ever mistaken ? ) surpass all these ; it 
is good, of downright English stuff. The airs are fresh and 
pleasing, the choruses large and noble, the instrumentation 
solid and rich, the music is carefully written. We wish old 
Thrum and his opera well 

" His pupil is a sure card, a splendid woman and a splen- 
did singer. She is so handsome that she might sing as much 
out of tune as Miss Ligonier, and the public would forgive 
her ; and sings so well, that were she as ugly as th&aforesaid 
Ligonier, the audience would listen to her. The Bavenswing, 
that is her fantastical theatrical name (her real name is the 
same with that of a notorious scoundrel in the Fleet, who in- 
vented the Panama swindle, the Pontine Marshes 9 swindle, the 
soap swindle — how are you off for soap now, Mr. W-lk-r ? ) — . 
the Bavenswing, we say, will do. Slang has engaged her at 
thirty guineas per week, and she appears next month in 
Thrum's opera, of which the words are written by a great ass 
with some talent — we mean Mr. Mulligan. 

" There is a foreign fool in the * Flowers of Fashion ' who 
is doing his best to disgust the public by his filthy flattery. It 
is enough to make one sick. Why is the foreign beast not 
kicked out of the paper 1 " — The Tomahawk, June 17. 

The three first "anecdotes " were supplied by Mulli- 
gan to his paper, with many others which need not 
here be repeated: he kept them up with amazing 
energy and variety. Anecdotes of Sir George Thrum 
met you unexpectedly in queer corners of country 
papers : puffs of the English school of music appeared 
perpetually in "notices to correspondents" in the 
Sunday prints, some of which Mr. Slang commanded, 
and in others over which the indefatigable Mulligan 
had a control. This youth was the soul of the little 
conspiracy for raising Morgiana into fame: and 
humble as he is, and great and respectable as is Sir 
George Thrum, it is my belief that the Bavenswing 



THE RAVENSWING. 341 

would never have been the Ravenswing she is but 
for the ingenuity and energy of the honest Hibernian 
reporter. 

It is only the business of the great man who writes 
the leading articles which appear in the large type of 
the daily papers to compose those astonishing pieces 
of eloquence ; the other parts of the paper are left to 
the ingenuity of the sub-editor, whose duty it is to 
select paragraphs, reject or receive horrid accidents, 
police reports, etc. ; with which, occupied as he is in 
the exercise of his tremendous functions, the editor 
himself cannot be expected to meddle. The fate of 
Europe is his province ; the rise and fall of empires, 
and the great questions of State demand the editor's 
attention : the humble puff, the paragraph about the 
last murder, or the state of the crops, or the sewers 
in Chancery Lane, is confided to the care of the sub ; 
and it is curious to see what a prodigious number of 
Irishmen exist among the sub-editors of London. 
When the Liberator enumerates the services of his 
countrymen, how the battle of Fontenoy was won by 
the Irish Brigade, how the battle of Waterloo would 
have been lost but for the Irish regiments, and enu- 
merates other acts for which we are indebted to 
Milesian heroism and genius, — he ought at least to 
mention the Irish brigade of the press, and the 
amazing services they do to this country. 

The truth is, the Irish reporters and soldiers appear 
to do their duty right well ; and my friend Mr. Mul- 
ligan is one of the former. Having the interests of 
his opera and the Ravenswing strongly at heart, and 
being amongst his brethren an exceedingly popular 
fellow, he managed matters so that never a day 
passed but some paragraph appeared somewhere re- 
garding the new singer, in whom, for their country* 



342 MEN'S WIVES. 

man's sake, all his brothers and sub-editors felt an 
interest. 

These puffs, destined to make known to all the 
world the merits of the Ravenswing, of course had 
an effect upon a gentleman very closely connected 
with that lady, the respectable prisoner in the Fleet, 
Captain Walker. As long as he received his weekly 
two guineas from Mr. Woolsey, and the occasional 
half-crowns whioh his wife could spare in her almost 
daily visits to him, he had never troubled himself to 
inquire what her pursuits were, and had allowed her 
(though the worthy woman longed with all her might 
to betray herself) to keep her secret. He was far 
from thinking indeed, that his wife would prove such 
a treasure to him. 

But when the voice of fame and the columns of the 
publio journals brought him each day some new story 
regarding the merits, genius, and beauty of the 
Ravenswing; when rumors reached him that she was 
the favorite pupil of Sir George Thrum; when she 
brought him five guineas after singing at the "Phil- 
harmonic" (other five the good soul had spent in 
purchasing some smart new cockades, hats, cloaks, 
and laces, for her little son); when, finally, it was 
said that Slang, the great manager, offered her an 
engagement at thirty guineas per week Mr. Walker 
became exceedingly interested in his wife's proceed- 
ings, of whioh he demanded from her the fullest 
explanation. 

Using his marital authority, he absolutely forbade 
Mrs. Walker's appearance on the public stage ; he 
wrote to Sir George Thrum a letter expressive of his 
highest indignation that negotiations so important 
should ever have been commenced without his author- 
ization; and he wrote to his dear Slang (for these 



THE RAVENSWING. 343 

gentlemen were very intimate, and in the coarse of 
his transactions as an agent Mr. W. had had many 
dealings with Mr. S.) asking his dear Slang whether 
the latter thought his friend Walker would be so 
green as to allow his wife to appear on the stage, 
and he remain in prison with all his debts on his 
head? 

And it was a curious thing now to behold how 
eager those very creditors who but yesterday (and 
with perfect correctness) had denounced Mr. Walker 
as a swindler ; who had refused to come to any com- 
position with him, and had sworn never to release 
him; how they on a sudden became quite eager to 
come to an arrangement with him, and offered, nay, 
begged and prayed him to go free, — only giving 
them his own and Mrs. Walker's acknowledgment 
of their debt, with a promise that a part of the 
lady's salary should be devoted to the payment of the 
claim. 

" The lady's salary ! " said Mr. Walker, indignantly, 
to these gentlemen and their attorneys. "Do you 
suppose I will allow Mrs. Walker to go on the stage ? 
— do you suppose I am such a fool as to sign bills to 
the full amount of these claims against me, when in 
a few months more I can walk out of prison without 
paying a shilling ? Gentlemen, you take Howard 
Walker for an idiot. I like the Fleet, and rather 
than pay I 'U stay here for these ten years." 

In other words, it was the Captain's determination 
to make some advantageous bargain for himself with 
his creditors and the gentlemen who were interested 
in bringing forward Mrs. Walker on the stage. And 
who can say that in so determining he did not act with 
laudable prudence and justice? 

"You do not, surely, consider, my very dear sir, 



344 MEN'S WIVEa 

that half the amount of Mrs. Walker's salaries is too 
much for my immense trouble and pains in teaching 
her?" cried Sir George Thrum (who, in reply to 
Walker's note, thought it most prudent to wait per- 
sonally on that, gentlemen). "Remember that I am 
the first master in England; that I have the best 
interest in England ; that I can bring her out at the 
Palace, and at every concert and musical festival in 
England ; that I am obliged to teach her every single 
note that she utters ; and that without me she could 
no more sing a song than her little baby could walk 
without its nurse." 

"I believe about half what you say," said Mr. 
Walker. 

"My dear Captain "^alker! would yon question 
my integrity ? Who was it that made Mrs. Milling- 
ton's fortune, — the celebrated Mrs. Millington, who 
has now got a hundred thousand pounds ? Who was 
it that brought out the finest tenor in Europe, Popple- 
ton ? Ask the musical world, ask those great artists 
themselves, and they will tell you they owe their 
reputation, their fortune, to Sir George Thrum." 

"It is very likely," replied the Captain, coolly. 
"You are a good master, I dare say, Sir George ; but 
I am not going to article Mrs. Walker to you for 
three years, and sign her articles in the Fleet Mrs. 
Walker sha'n't sing till I'm a free man, that's fiat, 
if I stay here till you 're dead she sha'n't." 

" Gracious powers, sir ! " exclaimed Sir George, "do 
you expect me to pay your debts ?" 

"Yes, old boy," answered the Captain, "and to 
give me something handsome in hand, too; and 
that 's my ultimatum : and so I wish you good-morn- 
ing, for I'm engaged to play a match at tennis 
below." 



THE RAVENSWING. 345 

This little interview exceedingly frightened the 
worthy knight, who went home to his lady in a 
delirious state of alarm occasioned by the audacity 
of Captain Walker. 

Mr. Slang's interview with him was scarcely more 
satisfactory. He owed, he said, four thousand pounds. 
His creditors might be brought to compound for five 
shillings in the pound. He would not consent to 
allow his wife to make a single engagement until 
the creditors were satisfied, and until he had a hand- 
some sum in hand to begin the world with. " Unless 
my wife comes out, you '11 be in the ( Gazette ' your- 
self, you know you will. So you may take her or 
leave her, as you think fit. 9 ' 

"Let her sing one night as a trial, 99 said Mr. 
Slang. 

"If she sings one night, the creditors will want 
their money in full," replied the Captain. " I shaVt 
let her labor, poor thing, for the profit of those scoun- 
drels ! " added the prisoner, with much feeling. And 
Slang left him with a much greater respect for 
Walker than he had ever before possessed. He was 
struck with the gallantry of the man who could 
triumph over misfortunes, nay, make misfortune it- 
self an engine of good luck. 

Mrs. Walker was instructed instantly to have a 
severe sore throat. The journals in Mr. Slang's in- 
terest deplored this illness pathetically; while the 
papers in the interest of the opposition theatre magni- 
fied it with great malice. "The new singer," said 
one, "the great wonder which Slang promised us, is as 
hoarse as a raven / " " Dr. Thorax pronounces," wrote 
another paper, "that the quinsy, which has suddenly 
prostrated Mrs. Bavenswing, whose singing at the 
' Philharmonic/ previous to her appearance at the ' T. 



346 MEN'S WIVES. 



■/ excited so much applause, has destroyed the 
lady's voice forever. We luckily need no other prima 
donna, when that place, as nightly thousands acknowl- 
edge, iB held by Miss Ligonier." The " Looker-on," 
said, "That although some well-informed contem- 
poraries had declared Mrs. W. Ravenswing's com- 
plaint to be a quinsy, others, on whose authority they 
could equally rely, had pronounced it to be a con- 
sumption. At all events, she was in an exceedingly 
dangerous state ; from which, though we do not ex- 
pect, we heartily trust she may recover. Opinions 
differ as to the merits of this lady, some saying 
that she was altogether inferior to Miss Ligonier, 
while other connoisseurs declare the latter lady to 
be by no means so accomplished a person. This 
pointy we fear," continued the " Looker-on," " can never 
now be settled; unless, which we fear is improb- 
able, Mrs. Ravenswing should ever so far recover 
as to be able to make her dibut ; and even then, the 
new singer will not have a fair chance unless her 
voice and strength shall be fully restored. This in- 
formation, which we have from exclusive resources, 
may be relied on," concluded the "Looker-on," "as 
authentic" 

It was Mr. Walker himself, that artful and auda- 
cious Fleet prisoner, who concocted those very para- 
graphs against his wife's health which appeared in 
the journals of the Ligonier party. The partisans 
of that lady were delighted, the creditors of Mr. 
Walker astounded, at reading them. Even Sir George 
Thrum was taken in, and came to the Fleet Prison 
in considerable alarm. 

" Mum 's the word, my good sir ! " said Mr. Walker. 
"Now is the time to make arrangements with the 
creditors." 



THE RAVENSWING. 347 

Well, these arrangements were finally made. It 
does not matter how many shillings in the pound 
satisfied the rapacious creditors of Morgiana's hus- 
band. But it is certain that her voice returned to 
her all of a sudden upon the Captain's release. The 
papers of the Mulligan faction again trumpeted her 
perfections ; the agreement with Mr. Slang was con- 
cluded ; that with Sir George Thrum the great com- 
poser satisfactorily arranged; and the new opera 
underlined in immense capitals in the bills, and put 
in rehearsal with immense expenditure on the part of 
the scene-painter and costumier. 

Need we tell with what triumphant success the 
" Brigand's Bride n was received ? All the Irish sub- 
editors the next morning took care to have such an 
aooount of it as made Miss Ligonier and Baroski die 
with envy. All the reporters who could spare time 
were in the boxes to support their friend's work. All 
the journeymen tailors of the establishment of Linsey, 
Woolsey, and Co., had pit tickets given to them, and 
applauded with all their might. All Mr. Walker's 
friends of the "Regent Club" lined the side-boxes 
with white kid gloves ; and in a little box by them- 
selves sat Mrs. Crump and Mr. Woolsey, a great deal 
too much agitated to applaud — so agitated, that 
Woolsey even forgot to fling down the bouquet he 
had brought for the Bavenswing. 

But there was no lack of those horticultural orna- 
ments. The theatre servants wheeled away a wheel- 
barrow-full (which were flung on the stage the next 
night over again) ; and Morgiana blushing, panting, 
weeping, was led off by Mr. Poppleton, the eminent 
tenor, who had crowned her with one of the most 
conspicuous of the chaplets. 

Here she flew to her husband, and flung her arms 



348 MEN'S WIVES. 

round his neck. He was flirting behind the side- 
scenes with Mademoiselle Flicflac, who had been 
dancing in the divertissement ; and was probably the 
only man in the theatre of those who witnessed the 
embrace that did not care for it. Even Slang was 
affected, and said with perfect sincerity, that he 
wished he had been in Walker's place. The man- 
ager's fortune was made, at least for the season. He 
acknowledged so much to Walker, who took a week's 
salary for his wife in advance that very night. 

There was, as usual, a grand supper in the green- 
room. The terrible Mr. Bludyer appeared in a new 
coat of the well-known Woolsey cut, and the little 
tailor himself and Mrs. Crump were not the least 
happy of the party. But when the Ravenswing took 
Woolsey's hand, and said she never would have been 
there but for him, Mr. Walker looked very grave, and 
hinted to her that she must not, in her position, en- 
courage the attentions of persons in that rank of life. 
" I shall pay," said he, proudly, H every farthing that 
is owing to Mr. Woolsey, and shall employ him for 
the future. But you understand, my love, that one 
cannot at one's own table receive one's own tailor." 

Slang proposed Morgiana's health in a tremendous 
speech, which elicited cheers, and laughter, and sobs, 
such as only managers have the art of drawing from 
the theatrical gentlemen and ladies in their employ. 
It was observed, especially among the chorus-singers 
at the bottom of the table, that their emotion was 
intense. They had a meeting the next day and voted 
a piece of plate to Adolphus Slang, Esq., for his emi- 
nent services in the cause of the drama. 

Walker returned thanks for his lady. That was, 
he said, the proudest moment of his life. He was 
proud to think that he had educated her for the 






" THE RAVENSWING. 349 

stage, happy to think that his sufferings had not been 
in yain, and that his exertions in her behalf were 
crowned with full success. In her name and his own 
he thanked the company, and sat down, and was once 
more particularly attentive to Mademoiselle Flicflac 

Then came an oration from Sir George Thrum, in 
reply to Slang's toast to him. It was very much 
to the same effect as the speech by Walker, the 
two gentlemen attributing to themselves individually 
the merit of bringing out Mrs. Walker. He con- 
cluded by stating that he should always hold Mrs. 
Walker as the daughter of his heart, and to the last 
moment of his life should love and cherish her. It 
is certain that Sir George was exceedingly elated that 
night, and would have been scolded by his lady on 
his return home, but for the triumph of the evening. 

Mulligan's speech of thanks, as author of the 
" Brigand's Bride," was, it must be confessed, ex- 
tremely tedious. It seemed there would be no end to 
it ; when he got upon the subject of Ireland especially, 
which somehow was found to be intimately connected 
with the interests of music and Jthe theatre. Even 
the choristers pooh-poohed this speech, coming though 
it did from the successful author, whose songs of 
wine, love, and battle, they had been repeating that 
night. 

The " Brigand's Bride " ran for many nights. Its 
choruses were tuned on the organs of the day. Mor- 
giana's airs, "The Rose upon my Balcony" and 
"The Lightning on the Cataract" (recitative and 
scena) were on everybody's lips, and brought so many 
guineas to Sir George Thrum that he was encouraged 
to have his portrait engraved, which still may be seen 
in the music shops. Not many persons, I believe, 
bought proof impressions of the plate, price two 



860 MEN'S WIVES. 

guineas ; whereas on the contrary, all the young clerks 
in banks, and all the fast young men of the universi- 
ties, had pictures of the Ravenswing in their apart- 
ments — as Biondetta (the brigand's bride), as Zelyma 
(in the " Nuptials of Benares "), as Barbareska (in 
the " Mine of Tobolsk "), and in all her famous char- 
acters. In the latter she disguises herself as an Uh- 
lan, in order to save her father, who is in prison; 
and the Eavenswing looked so fascinating in this 
costume in pantaloons and yellow boots, that Slang 
was for having her instantly in Captain Macheath, 
whence arose their quarrel. 

She was replaced at Slang's theatre by Snooks, the 
rhinoceros-tamer, with his breed of wild buffaloes. 
Their success was immense. Slang gave a supper, at 
which all the company burst into tears ; and assem- 
bling in the green-room next day, they, as usual, 
voted a piece of plate to Adolphus Slang, Esq., for 
his eminent services to the drama. 

In the Captain Macheath dispute Mr. Walker 
would have had his wife yield; but on this point, 
and for once, she disobeyed her husband and left the 
theatre. And when Walker cursed her (according to 
his wont) for her abominable selfishness and disre- 
gard of his property, she burst into tears and said she 
had spent but twenty guineas on herself and baby 
during the year, that her theatrical dressmaker's bills 
were yet unpaid, and that she had never asked him 
how much he spent on that odious French figurante. 

All this was true, except about the French figur- 
ante. Walker, as the lord and master, received all 
Morgiana's earnings, and spent them as a gentleman 
should. He gave very neat dinners at a cottage in 
the Regent's Park (Mr. and Mrs. Walker lived in 
Green Street, Qrosvenor Square), he played a good 



THE RAVENSWING. 351 

deal at the "Regent; " but as to the French figur- 
ante, it must be confessed, that Mrs. Walker was in 
a sad error: that lady and the Captain had parted 
long ago; it was Madame Dolores de Tras-os-Montes 
who inhabited the cottage in St John's Wood now. 

But if some little errors of this kind might be at- 
tributable to the Captain, on the other hand, when 
his wife was in the provinces, he was the most atten- 
tive of husbands ; made all her bargains, and received 
every shilling before he would permit her to sing a 
note. Thus he prevented her from being cheated, as 
a person of her easy temper doubtless would have 
been, by designing managers and needy concert-givers. 
They always travelled with four horses ; and Walker 
was adored in every one of the principal hotels in 
England. The waiters flew at his belL The cham- 
bermaids were afraid he was a sad naughty man, and 
thought his wife no such great beauty ; the landlords 
preferred him to any duke. He never looked at their 
bills, not he ! In fact his income was at least four 
thousand a year for some years of his life. 

Master Woolsey Walker was put to Dr. Wapshot's 
seminary, whence, after many disputes on the doctor's 
part as to getting his half-year's accounts paid, and 
after much complaint of ill-treatment on the little 
boy's side, he was withdrawn, and placed under the 
care of the Rev. Mr. Swishtail, at Turnham Green ; 
where all his bills are paid by his godfather, now the 
head of the firm of Woolsey and Co. 

As a gentleman, Mr. Walker still declines to see 
him ; but he has not, as far as I have heard, paid the 
sums of money which he threatened to refund; and, 
as he is seldom at home, the worthy tailor can come 
to Green Street at his leisure. He and Mrs. Crump, 
and Mrs. Walker, often take the omnibus to Brent- 



/ 



352 MEN'S WIVES. 

ford, and a cake with them to little Woolsey at 
school ; to whom the tailor says he will leave every 
shilling of his property. 

The Walkers have no other children; but when 
she takes her airing in the Park she always turns 
away at the sight of a low phaeton, in which sits a 
woman with rouged cheeks and a great number of 
over-dressed children with a French bonne, whose 
name, I am given to understand, is Madame Dolores 
de Tras-os-Montes. Madame de Tras-os-Montes al- 
ways puts a great gold glass to her eye as the Ravens- 
wing's carriage passes, and looks into it with a sneer. 
The two coachmen used always to exchange queer 
winks at each other in the ring, until Madame de 
Tras-os-Montes lately adopted a tremendous chasseur, 
with huge whiskers and a green and gold livery; 
since which time the formerly named gentlemen do 
not recognize each other. 

The Ravenswing's life is one of perpetual triumph 
on the stage; and, as every one of the fashionable 
men about town have been in love with her, you may 
fancy what a pretty character she has. Lady Thrum 
would die sooner than speak to that unhappy young 
woman ; and, in fact, the Thrums have a new pupil, 
who is a siren without the dangerous qualities of one, 
who has the person of a Venus and the mind of a 
muse, and who is coming out at one of the theatres 
immediately. Baroski says, "De liddle Bafensch- 
wing is just as font of me as efferl" People are 
very shy about receiving her in society! and when 
she goes to sing at a concert, Miss Prim starts up and 
skurries off in a state of the greatest alarm, lest "that 
person " should speak to her. 

Walker is voted a good, easy, rattling, gentlemanly 
fellow, and nobody's enemy but his own. His wife, 



THE BAVENSWING. 363 

they say, is dreadfully extravagant; and, indeed, 
since his marriage, and, in spite of his wife's large 
income, he has been in the Bench several times ; but 
she signs some bills and he comes out again, and is 
as gay and genial as ever. All mercantile specu- 
lations he has wisely long since given up ; he likes to 
throw a main of an evening, as I have said, and to 
take his couple of bottles at dinner. On Friday he 
attends at the theatre for his wife's salary, and tran- 
sacts no other business during the week. He grows 
exceedingly stout, dyes his hair, and has a bloated, 
purple look about the nose and cheeks, very different 
from that which first charmed the heart of Morgiana. 
By the way, Eglantine has been turned out of the 
Bower of Bloom, and now keeps a shop at Tunbridge 
Wells. Going down thither last year without a razor, 
I asked a fat, seedy man, lolling in a faded nankeen 
jacket at the door of a tawdry little shop in the Pan- 
tiles, to shave me. He said in reply, " Sir, I do not 
practise in that branch of the profession ! " and turned 
back into the little shop. It was Archibald Eglantine. 
But in the wreck of his fortunes, he still has his cap- 
tain's uniform, and his grand cross of the order of the 
Elephant and Castle of Panama. 



POSTSCRIPT. 

0. Fitz-BoodU, Esq., to 0. Yorke, Esq. 

Zum Trierischen Hop, Coblenz, July 10, 1848. 
My dear Yorke, — The story of the Ravenswing was writ- 
ten a long time since, and I never could account for the bad 
taste of the publishers of the metropolis who refused it an in- 
sertion in their various magazines. This fact would never 
have been alluded to but for the following circumstance : — 
vol. xxix.— 28 



354 MEN'S WIVES. 

Only yesterday, as 1 was dining at this excellent hotel, I re- 
marked a bald-headed gentleman in a blue coat and brass but- 
tons, who looked like a colonel on half-pay, and by his side a 
lady and a little boy of twelve, whom the gentleman was 
cramming with an amazing quantity of cherries and cakes. A 
stout old dame in a wonderful cap and ribbons was seated by 
the lady's side, and it was easy to see they were English, and I 
thought I had already made their acquaintance elsewhere. 

The younger of the ladies at last made a bow with an ac- 
companying blush. 

" Surely, 9 said I, " I have the honor of speaking to Mrs. 
Ravenswing?" 

" Mrs. Woolsey, sir," said the gentleman ; u my wife has 
long since left the stage : n and at this the old lady in the 
wonderful cap trod on my toes very severely, and nodded her 
head and all her ribbons in a most mysterious way. Pres- 
ently the two ladies rose and left the table, the elder declaring 
that she heard the baby crying. 

" Woolsey my dear, go with your mamma." said Mr. Wool- 
sey, patting the boy on the head : the young gentleman obeyed 
the command, carrying off a plate of macaroons with him. 

" Your son is a fine boy, sir." said L 

" My step-son, sir/' answered Mr. Woolsey ; and added in 
a louder voice, " I knew you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, at once, but 
did not mention your name for fear of agitating my wife. She 
don't like to have the memory of old times renewed, sir ; her 
former husband, whom you knew, Captain Walker, made her 
very unhappy. He died in America, sir, of this, I fear" 
(pointing to the bottle), "and Mrs. W. quitted the stage 
a year before I quitted business. Are you going on to 
Wiesbaden?" 

They went off in their carriage that evening, the boy on the 
box making great efforts to blow out of the postilion's tasselled 
horn. 

I am glad that poor Morgiana is happy at last, and hasten to 
inform you of the fact : I am going to visit the old haunts of 
my youth at Pumpernickle. Adieu. • 

Yours, G. F. R 



MR. AND MBS. FRANK BERRY. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE FIGHT AT SLAUGHTER H0U8B. 

I am very fond of reading about battles, and have 
most of Marlborough's and Wellington's at my fingers' 
ends ; but the most tremendous combat I ever saw, 
and one that interests me to think more of than Mal- 
plaquet or Waterloo (which, by the way, has grown to 
be a downright nuisance, so much do men talk of it 
after dinner, prating most disgustingly about "the 
Prussians coming up," and what not) — I say the 
most tremendous combat ever known was that be- 
tween Berry and Biggs the gown-boy, which com- 
menced in a certain place called Middle Briars, 
situated in the midst of the cloisters that run along 
the side of the playground of Slaughter House School, 
near Smithfield, London. It was there, madam, that 
your humble servant had the honor of acquiring, after 
six years' labor, that immense fund of classical knowl- 
edge which in after life has been so exceedingly use- 
ful to him. 

The circumstances of the quarrel were these: — 
Biggs, the gown-boy (a man who, in those days, I 
thought was at least seven feet high, and was quite 
thunderstruck to find in after life that he measured 
no more than five feet four), was what we called 



366 MEN'S WIVES. 

"second cock" of the school; the first cock was a 
great big, good-humored, lazy, fair-haired fellow, Old 
Hawkins by name, who, because he was large and 
good-humored, hurt nobody. Biggs, on the contrary, 
was a sad bully ; he had half a dozen fags, and beat 
them all unmercifully. Moreover, he had a little 
brother, a boarder in Potky's house, whom, as a 
matter of course, he hated and maltreated worse than 
any one else. 

Well, one day, because young Biggs had not brought 
his brother his hoops, or had not caught a ball at 
cricket, or for some other equally good reason, Biggs 
the elder so belabored the poor little fellow, that 
Berry, who was sauntering by, and saw the dreadful 
blows which the elder brother was dealing to the 
younger with his hockey-stick, felt a compassion for 
the little fellow (perhaps he had a jealousy against 
Biggs, and wanted to try a few rounds with him, but 
that I can't vouch for) ; however, Berry passing by, 
stopped and said, " Don't you think you have thrashed 
the boy enough, Biggs ? " He spoke this in a very 
civil tone, for hfi never would have thought of inter- 
fering rudely wffch the sacred privilege that an upper 
boy at a public school always has of beating a junior, 
especially when they happen to be brothers. 

The reply of Biggs, as might be expected, was to 
hit young Biggs with the hockey-stick twice as hard 
as before, until the little wretch howled with pain. 
"I suppose it's no business of yours, Berry," said 
Biggs, thumping away all the while, and laid on 
worse and worse. 

Until Berry (and, indeed, little Biggs) could bear 
it no longer, and the former, bouncing forward, 
wrenched the stick out of old Biggs's hands, and sent 
it whirling out of the cloister window, to the great 



MB. AND MR& FRANK BERRT. 357 

wonder of a crowd of us small boys, who were looking 
on. Little boys always like to see a little companion 
of their own soundly beaten. 

"There!" said Berry, looking into Biggs's face, as 
muoh as to say, "I've gone and done it:" and he 
added to the brother, " Scud away, you little thief ! 
I 've saved you this time." 

" Stop, young Biggs ! " roared out his brother after 
a pause ; " and 1 11 break every bone in your infernal! 
scoundrelly skin ! " 

Young Biggs looked at Berry, then at his brother, 
then came at his brother's order, as if back to be 
beaten again, but lost heart and ran away as fast as 
his little legs oould carry him. 

" I '11 do for him another time," said Biggs. " Here, 
under-boy, take my coat ; " and we all began to gather 
round and formed a ring. 

" We had better wait till after school, Biggs," cried 
Berry, quite cool, but looking a little pale. " There 
are only five minutes now, and it will take you more 
than that to thrash me." 

Biggs upon this committed a great error; for he 
struck Berry slightly across the face with the back of 
his hand, saying, " You are in a funk." But this was a 
feeling which Frank Berry did not in the least enter- 
tain ; for in reply to Biggs's back-hander, and as quick 
as thought, and with all his might and main — pong ! 
he delivered a blow upon old Biggs's nose that made 
the claret spirt, and sent the second cock down to the 
ground as if he had been shot. 

He was up again, however, in a minute, his face 
white and gashed with blood, his eyes glaring, a 
ghastly spectacle ; and Berry, meanwhile, had taken 
his coat off, and by this time there were gathered 
in the cloisters, on all the windows, and upon each 



35S MEN'S WIVES. 

other's shoulders, one hundred and twenty young 
gentlemen at the very least, for the news had gone 
out through the playground of "a fight between 
Berry and Biggs." 

But Berry was quite right in his remark about the 
propriety of deferring the business, for at this minute 
Mr. Chip, the second master, came down the cloisters 
going into school, and grinned in his queer way as he 
saw the state of Biggs's face. "Holloa, Mr. Biggs," 
said he, "I suppose you have run against a finger- 
post." That was the regular joke with us at school, 
and you may be sure we all laughed heartily : as we 
always did when Mr. Chip made a joke, or anything 
like a joke. "You had better go to the pump, sir, 
and get yourself washed, and not let Dr. Buckle see 
you in that condition." So saying, Mr. Chip disap- 
peared to his duties in the under-school, whither all 
we little boys followed him. 

It was Wednesday, a half-holiday, as everybody 
knows, and boiled-beef day at Slaughter House. I 
was in the same boarding-house with Berry, and we 
all looked to see whether he ate a good dinner, just 
as one would examine a man who was going to be 
hanged. I recollected, in after-life, in Germany, see- 
ing a friend who was going to fight a duel, eat five 
larks for his breakfast, and thought I had seldom 
witnessed greater courage. Berry ate moderately of 
the boiled beef — boiled child we used to call it at 
school, in our elegant, jocular way 5 he knew a great 
deal better than to load his stomach upon the eve of 
such a contest as was going to take place. 

Dinner was very soon over, and Mr. Chip, who had 
been all the while joking Berry, and pressing him to 
eat, oalled him up into his study, to the great disap- 
pointment of us all, for we thought he was going to 



MB. AND MBS. FRANK BERRY. 

prevent the fight; but no such thing. The Rev. 
Edward Chip took Berry into his study, and poured 
him out two glasses of port-wine, which he made him 
take with a biscuit, and patted him on the back, 
and went off. I have no doubt he was longing, like 
all of us, to see the battle ; but etiquette, you know, 
forbade. 

When we went out into the green, Old Hawkins 
was there — the great Hawkins, the cook of the 
schooL I have never seen the man since, but still 
think of him as of something awful, gigantic, myste- 
rious; he who could thrash everybody, who could 
beat all the masters : how we longed for him to put in 
his hand and lick Buckle ! He was a dull boy, not 
very high in the school, and had all his exercises 
written for him. Buckle knew this, but respected 
him ; never called him up to read Greek plays ; passed 
over all his blunders, which were many ; let him go 
out of half-holidays into the town as he pleased : how 
should any man dare to stop him — the great, calm, 
magnanimous, silent Strength ! They say he licked a 
Life-Guardsman ; I wonder whether it was Shaw, who 
killed all those Frenchmen ? no, it could not be Shaw, 
for he was dead au champ eThonneur; but he would 
have licked Shaw if he had been alive. A bargeman 
I know he licked at Jack Randall's in Slaughter 
House Lane. Old Hawkins was too lazy to play at 
cricket ; he sauntered all day in the sunshine about the 
green, accompanied by little Tippins, who was in the 
sixth form, laughed and joked at Hawkins eternally, 
and was the person who wrote all his exercises. 

Instead of going into town this afternoon, Hawkins 
remained at Slaughter House, to see the great fight 
between the second and third cocks. 

The different masters of the school kept boarding- 



360 MEN'S WIVES. 

houses (such as Potky's, Chip's, Wicken's, Pinners, 
and so on), and the playground or " green," as it was 
called, although the only thing green about the place 
was the broken glass on the walls that separate 
Slaughter House from Wilderness Bow and Goswell 
Street — (many a time have I seen Mr. Pickwick look 
out of his window in that street, though we did not 
know him then) — the playground, or green, was 
common to all. But if any stray boy from Potky's 
was found, for instance, in, or entering into, Chip's 
house, the most dreadful tortures were practised upon 
him : as I can answer in my own case. 

Fancy, then, our astonishment at seeing a little 
three-foot wretch, of the name of Wills, one of Haw- 
kins's fags (they were both in Potky's), walk undis- 
mayed amongst us lions at Chip's house, as the " rich 
and rare " young lady did in Ireland. We were going 
to set upon him and devour or otherwise maltreat 
him, when he cried out in a little shrill, impertinent 
voice, " Tell Berry I want him / " 

We all roared with laughter. Berry was in the 
sixth form and Wills or any under-boy would as soon 
have thought of " wanting " him, as I should of want- 
ing the Duke of Wellington. 

Little Wills looked round in an imperious kind of 
way. " Well," says he, stamping his foot, u do you 
hear ? Tell Berry that Hawkins wants him / " 

As for resisting the law of Hawkins, you might as 
soon think of resisting immortal Jove. Berry and 
Tolmash, who was to be his bottle-holder, made their 
appearance immediately, and walked out into the 
green where Hawkins was waiting, and, with an irre- 
sistible audacity that only belonged to himself, in the 
face of nature and all the regulations of the place, was 
smoking a cigar. When Berry and Tolmash found 



MB. AND MBa FRANK BEBRT. 361 

him, the three began slowly pacing up and down in 
the sunshine, and we little boys watched them. 

Hawkins moved his arms and hands every now and 
then, and was evidently laying down the law about 
boxing. We saw his fists darting out every now and 
then with mysterious swiftness, hitting one, two, 
quick as thought, as if in the face of an adversary ; 
now his left hand went up, as if guarding his own 
head, now his immense right fist dreadfully flapped 
the air, as if punishing his imaginary opponent's mis- 
erable ribs. The conversation lasted for some ten 
minutes, about which time gown-boys' dinner was over, 
and we saw these youths in their black, horn-buttoned 
jackets and knee-breeches, issuing from their door in 
the cloisters. There were no hoops, no cricket-bats, 
as usual on a half-holiday. Who would have thought 
of play in expectation of such tremendous sport as 
was in store for us ? 

Towering among the gown-boys, of whom he was 
the head and the tyrant, leaning upon Bushby's arm, 
and followed at a little distance by many curious, pale, 
awe-stricken boys, dressed in his black silk stockings, 
which he always sported, and with a crimson bandanna 
tied round his waist, came Biggs. His nose was swollen 
with the blow given before school, but his eyes flashed 
fire. He was laughing and sneering with Bushby, and 
evidently intended to make minced meat of Berry. 

The betting began pretty freely: the bets were 
against poor Berry. Five to three were offered — in 
ginger-beer. I took six to four in raspberry open 
tarts. The upper boys carried the thing farther still : 
and I know for a fact, that S Wang's book amounted to 
four pound three (but he hedged a good deal), and 
Tittery lost seventeen shillings in a single bet to Pitts, 
who took the odds. 



MEN'S WIVE& 

As Biggs and his party arrived, I heard Hawkins 
say to Berry, "For heaven's sake, my boy, fib with 
your right, and mind his left hand ! " 

Middle Briars was voted to be too confined a space 
for the combat, and it was agreed that it should take 
place behind the under-school in the shade, whither 
we all went. Hawkins, with his immense silver hunt- 
ing-watch, kept the time ; and water was brought from 
the pump close to Notley's the pastry-cook's, who did 
not admire fisticuffs at all on half-holidays, for the 
fights kept the boys away from his shop. Gutley was 
the only fellow in the school who remained faithful to 
him, and he sat on the counter — the great gormand- 
izing brute ! — eating tarts the whole day. 

This famous fight, as every Slaughter House man 
knows, lasted for two hours and twenty-nine minutes, 
by Hawkins's immense watch. All this time the air 
resounded with cries of "Go it, Berry !" "Go it, 
Biggs ! " " Pitch into him ! " " Give it him ! » and 
so on. Shall I describe the hundred and two rounds 
of the combat ? No ! — It would occupy too much 
space, and the taste for such descriptions has passed 
away. * 

1st round. Both the combatants fresh, and in prime 
order. The weight and inches somewhat on the gown- 
boy's side. Berry goes gallantly in, and delivers a 
clinker on the gown-boy's jaw. Biggs makes play 
with his left Berry down. 

4th round. Claret drawn in profusion from the 
gown-boy's grog-shop. (He went down, and had his 

1 As it is very probable that many fair readers may not approve of 
the extremely forcible language in which the combat is depicted, I 
beg them to skip it and pass on to the next chapter, and to remem- 
ber that it has been modelled on the style of the very best writers of 
the sporting papers. 



MR. AND MBS. FRANK BERRY. 363 

front tooth knocked out, but the blow out Berry's 
knuckles a great deal.) 

15th round. Chancery. Fibbing. Biggs makes 
dreadful work with his left Break away. Bally. 
Biggs down. Betting still six to four on the gown- 
boy. 

20th round. The men both dreadfully punished* 
Berry somewhat shy of his adversary's left hand. 

29th to 42d round. The Chipsite all this while 
breaks away from the gown-boy's lef t, and goes down 
on a knee. Six to four on the gown-boy, until the 
fortieth round, when the bets became equal. 

102d and last round. For half an hour the men 
had stood up to each other, but were almost too weary 
to strike. The gown-boy's face hardly to be recog- 
nized, swollen and streaming with blood. The Chip- 
site in a similar condition, and still more punished 
about his side from his enemy's left hand. Berry 
gives a blow at his adversary's face, and falls over 
him as he falls. 

The gown-boy can't come up to time. And thus 
ended the great fight of Berry and Biggs. 

And what, pray, has this horrid description of a 
battle and a parcel of schoolboys to do with Men's 
Wives ? 

What has it to do with Men's Wives? — A great 
deal more, madam, than you think for. Only read 
Chapter IL, and you shall hear. 



GHAFTEB IL 

THE COMBAT AT VBR8AILLK8. 

I afterwards came to be Berry's fag, and, though 
beaten by him daily, he allowed, of course, no one 
else to lay a hand upon me, and I got no more thrash- 
ing than was good for me. Thus an intimacy grew 
up between us, and after he left Slaughter House and 
went into the dragoons, the honest fellow did not for- 
get his old friend, but actually made his appearance 
one day in the playground in mustaches and a braided 
coat, and gave me a gold pencil-case and a couple of 
sovereigns. I blushed when I took them, but take 
them I did; and I think the thing I almost best recol- 
lect in my life, is the sight of Berry getting behind an 
immense bay cab-horse, which was held by a correct 
little groom, and was waiting near the school in 
Slaughter House Square. He proposed, too, to have 
me to " Long's," where he was lodging for the time ; 
but this invitation was refused on my behalf by Dr. 
Buckle, who said, and possibly with correctness, that 
I should get little good by spending my holiday with 
such a scapegrace. 

Once afterwards he came to see me at Christ Church, 
and we made a show of writing to one another, and 
didn't, and always had a hearty mutual good-will; 
and though we did not quite burst into tears on part- 
ing, were yet quite happy when occasion threw us 
together, and so almost lost sight of each other. I 
heard lately that Berry was married, and am rather 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRT. 365 

ashamed to say, that I was not so curious as even to 
ask the maiden name of his lady. 

Last summer I was at Paris, and had gone over to 
Versailles to meet a party, one of which was a young 

lady to whom I was tenderly But, never mind. 

The day was rainy, and the party did not keep its ap- 
pointment ; and after yawning through the intermin- 
able palace picture-galleries, and then making an 
attempt to smoke a cigar in the Palace garden — for 
which crime I was nearly run through the body by a 
rascally sentinel — I was driven, perforce, into the 
great bleak, lonely Place before the Palace, with its 
roads branching off to &11 the towns in the world, 
which Louis and Napoleon once intended to conquer, 
and there enjoyed my favorite pursuit at leisure, 
and was meditating whether I should go back to 
"V^four's" for dinner, or patronize my friend M. 
Duboux of the " Hdtel des Reservoirs," who gives not 
only a good dinner, but as dear a one as heart can 
desire. I was, I say, meditating these things, when 
a carriage passed by. It was a smart, low calash, 
with a pair of bay horses and a postilion in a drab 
jacket, that twinkled with innumerable buttons, and 
I was too much occupied in admiring the build of the 
machine, and the extreme tightness of the fellow's 
inexpressibles, to look at the personages within the 
carriage, when the gentleman roared out "Fitz ! " and 
the postilion pulled up, and the lady gave a shrill 
scream, and a little black-muzzled spaniel began bark- 
ing and yelling with all his might, and a man with 
mustaches jumped out of the vehicle, and began 
shaking me by the hand. 

" Drive home, John," said the gentleman : " I '11 be 
with you, my love, in an instant — it 's an old friend. 
Fitz, let me present you to Mrs. Berry." 



366 MEN'S WIVES. 

The lady made an exceedingly gentle inclination of 
her black velvet bonnet, and said, " Pray, my love, 
remember that it is just dinner-time. However, never 
mind me." And with another slight toss and a nod 
to the postilion, that individual's white leather breeches 
began to jump up and down again in the saddle, and 
the carriage disappeared, leaving me shaking my old 
friend Berry by the hand. 

He had long quitted the army, but still wore his 
military beard, which gave to his fair pink face a 
fierce and lion-like look. He was extraordinarily glad 
to see me, as only men are glad who live in a small 
town, or in dull company. There is no destroyer of 
friendships like London, where a man has no time 
to think of his neighbor, and has far too many friends 
to care for them. He told me in a breath of his mar- 
riage, and how happy he was, and straight insisted 
that I must come home to dinner, and see more of 
Angelica, who had invited me herself — did n't I hear 
her? 

" Mrs. Berry asked you, Frank ; but I certainly did 
not hear her ask met" 

"She would not have mentioned the dinner but 
that she meant me to ask you. I know she did," 
cried Frank Berry. "And, besides — hang it — I 'm 
master of the house. So come you shall. No cere- 
mony, old boy — one or two friends— snug family 
party — and we'll talk of old times over a bottle of 
claret." 

There did not seem to me to be the slightest ob- 
jection to this arrangement, except that my boots 
were muddy, and my coat of the morning sort But 
as it was quite impossible to go to Paris and back 
again in a quarter of an hour, and as a man may dine 
with perfect comfort to himself in a frock-coat, it did 




o 

•J 
w 

a 

o 
o 

s 



Tl 






!LULN FOUNDATIONS. 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 367 

not occur to me to be particularly squeamish, or to 
decline an old friend's invitation upon a pretext so 
trivial. 

Accordingly we walked to a small house in the 
Avenue de Paris, and were admitted first into a small 
garden ornamented by a grotto, a fountain, and sev- 
eral nymphs in plaster-of-Paris, then up a mouldy 
old steep stair into a hall, where a statue of Cupid 
and another of Venus welcomed us with their eternal 
simper ; then through a scdle-a-manger, where covers 
were laid for six ; and finally to a little saloon, where 
Fido the dog began to howl furiously according to his 
wont 

It was one of the old pavilions that had been built 
for a pleasure-house in the gay days of Versailles, 
ornamented with abundance of damp Cupids and 
cracked gilt cornices, and old mirrors let into the 
walls, and gilded once, but now painted a dingy 
French white. The long low windows looked into 
the court, where the fountain played its ceaseless 
dribble, surrounded by numerous rank creepers and 
weedy flowers, but in the midst of which the statues 
stood with their bases quite moist and green. 

I hate fountains and statues in dark, confined 
places : that cheerless, endless plashing of water is 
the most inhospitable sound ever heard. The stiff 
grin of those French statues, or ogling Canova Graces, 
is by no means more happy, I think, than the smile 
of a skeleton, and not so natural. Those little pavil- 
ions in which the old routs sported, were never meant 
to be seen by daylight, depend on't They were 
lighted up with a hundred wax-candles, and the little 
fountain yonder was meant only to cool their claret. 
And so, my first impression of Berry's place of abode 
was rather a dismal one. However, I heard him in 



368 MEN'S WIVES. 

the sallerti-manger drawing the corks, which went off 
with a cloop, and that consoled me. 

As for the furniture of the rooms appertaining to 
the Berrys, there was a harp in a leather case, and a 
piano, and a flute-box, and a huge tambour with a 
Saracen's nose just begun, and likewise on the table 
a multiplicity of those little gilt books, half senti- 
mental and half religious, which the wants of the age 
and of our young ladies have produced in such num- 
bers of late. I quarrel with no lady's taste in that 
way ; but heigho ! I had rather that Mrs. Fitz-Boodle 
should read " Humphrey Clinker ! " 

Beside these works, there was a " Peerage " of 
course. What genteel family was ever without one ? 

I was making for the door to see Frank drawing 
the corks, and was bounced at by the amiable little 
black-muzzled spaniel, who fastened his teeth in my 
pantaloons, and received a polite kick in consequence, 
which sent him howling to the other end of the room, 
and the animal was just in the act of performing that 
feat of agility, when the door opened and madame 
made her appearance. Frank came behind her peer- 
ing over her shoulder with rather an anxious look. 

Mrs. Berry is an exceedingly white and lean per- 
son. She has thick eyebrows, which meet rather 
dangerously over her nose, which is Grecian, and a 
small mouth with no lips — a sort of feeble pucker in 
the face as it were. Under her eyebrows are a pair 
of enormous eyes, which she is in the habit of turn- 
ing constantly ceiling-wards. Her hair is rather 
scarce, and worn in bandeaux, and she commonly 
mounts a sprig of laurel, or a dark flower or two, 
which, with the sham tour — T believe that is the 
name of the knob of artificial hair that many ladies 
sport — gives her a rigid and classical look. She is 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRT. 

dressed in black, and has invariably the neatest of 
silk stockings and shoes ; for forsooth her foot is a 
fine one, and she always sits with it before her, look- 
ing at it, stamping it, and admiring it a great deal. 
"Fido," she says to her spaniel, "you have almost 
crushed my poor foot ; " or, " Frank," to her husband, 
" bring me a footstool ; " or, " I suffer so from cold in 
the feet," and so forth ; but be the conversation what 
it will, she is always sure to put her foot into it. 

She invariably wears on her neck the miniature of 
her late father, Sir George Catacomb, apothecary to 
George III. ; and she thinks those two men the great- 
est the world ever saw. She was born in Baker 
Street, Portman Square, and that is saying almost 
enough of her. She is as long, as genteel, and as 
dreary, as that deadly-lively place, and sports, by way 
of ornament, her papa's hatchment, as it were, as 
every tenth Baker Street house has taught her. 

What induced such a jolly fellow as Frank Berry to 
marry Miss Angelica Catacomb no one can tell. He 
met her, he says, at a ball at Hampton Court, where 
his regiment was quartered, and where, to this day, 
lives "her aunt Lady Pash." She alludes perpetually 
in conversation to that celebrated lady ; and if you 
look in the "Baronetage " to the pedigree of the Pash 
family, you may see manuscript notes by Mrs. Frank 
Berry, relative to them and herself. Thus, when you 
see in print that Sir John Pash married Angelica, 
daughter of Graves Catacomb, in a neat hand you find 
written, and sister of the late Sir George Catacomb, of 
Baker Street, Portman Square: "1 B." follows of 
course. It is a wonder how fond ladies are of writing 
in books and signing their charming initials ! Mrs. 
Berry's before-mentioned little gilt books are scored 
with pencil-marks, or occasionally at the margin with 
vol. xxix.— 24 



370 MEN'S WIVES. 

a ! — note of interjection, or the words " Too true, A. 
B" and so on. Much may be learned with regard to 
lovely woman by a look at the books she reads in; and 
I had gained no inconsiderable knowledge of Mrs. 
Berry by the ten minutes spent in the drawing-room, 
while she was at her toilet in the adjoining bed- 
chamber. 

"You have often heard me talk of George Fitz," 
says Berry, with an appealing look to madame. 

" Very often," answered his lady, in a tone which 
clearly meant " a great deal too much." " Pray, sir," 
continued she, looking at my boots with all her might, 
" are we to have your company at dinner ? " 

"Of course you are, my dear; what else do you 
think he came for? You would not have the man 
go back to Paris to get his evening coat, would 
you?" 

"At least, my love, I hope you will go and put on 
yours, and change those muddy boots. Lady Pash 
will be here in five minutes, and you know Dobus is 
as punctual as clockwork." Then turning to me with 
a sort of apology that was as consoling as a box on 
the ear, "We have some friends at dinner, sir, who 
are rather particular persons; but I am sure when 
they hear that you only came on a sudden invitation, 
they will excuse your morning dress. — Bah, what a 
smell of smoke ! " 

With this speech madame placed herself majesti- 
cally on a sofa, put out her foot, called Fido, and re- 
lapsed into an icy silence. Frank had long since 
evacuated the premises, with a rueful look at his 
wife, but never daring to cast a glance at me. I saw 
the whole business at once ; here was this lion of a 
fellow tamed down by a she Van Amburgh, and fetch- 
ing and carrying at her orders a great deal more 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 371 

obediently than her little yowling, black-muzzled 
darling of a Fido. 

I am not, however, to be tamed so easily, and was 
determined in this instance not to be in the least dis- 
concerted, or to show the smallest sign of ill-humor : 
so to renouer the conversation, I began about Lady 
Pash. 

"I heard you mention the name of Pash, I think?" 
said L "I know a lady of that name, and a very 
ugly one it is too." 

"It is most probably not the same person," 
answered Mrs. Berry, with a look which intimated 
that a fellow like me could never have had the honor 
to know so exalted a person. 

" I mean old Lady Pash of Hampton Court. Eat 
woman — fair, ain't she ? — and wears an amethyst 
in her forehead, has one eye, a blond wig, and dresses 
in light green ? " 

"Lady Pash, sir, is my aunt," answered Mrs. 
Berry (not altogether displeased, although she ex- 
pected money from the old lady; but you know we 
love to hear our friends abused when it can be safely 
done). 

" Oh, indeed ! she was a daughter of old Catacomb 
of Windsor, I remember, the undertaker. They called 
her husband Callipash, and her ladyship Pish-pash. 
So you see, madam, that I know the whole family ! " 

" Mr. Fitz-Simons ! " exclaimed Mrs. Berry, rising, 
" I am not accustomed to hear nicknames applied to 
myself and my family ; and must beg you, when you 
honor us with your company, to spare our feelings as 
much as possible. Mr. Catacomb had the confidence 
of his sovereign, sir, and Sir John Pash was of 
Charles II.'s creation. The one was my uncle, sir, 
the other my grandfather!" 



S72 MEN'S WIVES. 

" My dear madam, I am extremely sorry! and most 
sincerely apologize for my inadvertence. But you 
owe me an apology too : my name is not Fitz-Simons 
but Fitz-Boodle." 

" What ! of Boodle Hall— my husband's old friend; 
of Charles I.'s creation ? My dear sir, I beg you a 
thousand pardons, and am delighted to welcome a 
person of whom I have heard Frank say so much. 
Frank ! " (to Berry, who soon entered in very glossy 
boots and a white waistcoat), " do you know, darling, 
I mistook Mr. Fitz-Boodle for Mr. Fitz-Simons — that 
horrid Irish horse-dealing person; and I never, never, 
never can pardon myself for being so rude to him." 

The big eyes here assumed an expression that was 
intended to kill me outright with kindness : from 
being calm, still, reserved, Angelica suddenly became 
gay, smiling, confidential, and foldtre. She told me 
she had heard I was a sad creature, and that she in- 
tended to reform me, and that I must come and see 
Frank a great deal. 

Now, although Mr. Fitz-Simons, for whom I was 
mistaken, is as low a fellow as ever came out of Dublin, 
and having been a captain in somebody's army, is now 
a blackleg and horse-dealer by profession ; yet if I had 
brought him home to Mrs. Fitz-Boodle to dinner, I 
should have liked far better that that imaginary lady 
should have received him with decent civility, and 
not insulted the stranger within her husband's gates. 
And, although it was delightful to be received so 
cordially when the mistake was discovered, yet I 
found that all Berry's old acquaintances were by no 
means so warmly welcomed ; for another old school- 
chum presently made his appearance, who was treated 
in a very different manner. 

This was no other than poor Jack Butts, who is a 



MB. AND MRS. FRANK BERRT. 373 

sort of small artist and picture-dealer by profession, 
and was a day-boy at Slaughter House when we were 
there, and Very serviceable in bringing in sausages, 
pots of pickles, and other articles of merchandise, 
which we could not otherwise procure. The poor 
fellow has been employed, seemingly, in the same 
office of f etcher and carrier ever since ; and occupied 
that post for Mrs. Berry. It was, " Mr. Butts, have 
you finished that drawing for Lady Pash's album ? " 
and Butts produced it ; and, " Did you match the silk 
for me at Delille's ?" and there was the silk, bought, 
no doubt, with the poor fellow's last five francs ; and, 
" Did you go to the furniture-man in the Rue St 
Jacques ; and bring the canary-seed, and call about 
my shawl at that odious, dawdling Madame Fichet's ; 
and have you brought the guitar-strings ? " 

Butts had n't brought the guitar-strings ; and there- 
upon Mrs. Berry's countenance assumed the same 
terrible expression which I had formerly remarked in 
it, and which made me tremble for Berry. 

"My dear Angelica," though said he with some 
spirit, " Jack Butts is n't a baggage-wagon, nor a 
Jack-of-all-trades ; you make him paint pictures for 
your women's albums, and look after your upholsterer, 
and your canary-bird, and your milliners, and turn 
rusty because he forgets your last message." 

" I did not turn rusty y Frank, as you call it ele- 
gantly. I'm very much obliged to Mr. Butts for 
performing my commissions — very much obliged. 
And as for not paying for the pictures to which you 
so kindly allude, Frank /should never have thought 
of offering payment for so paltry a service ; but I 'm 
sure I shall be happy to pay if Mr. Butts will send 
me in his bill." 

"By Jove, Angelica, this is too much!" bounced 



374 MEN'S WIVES. 

out Berry ; but the little matrimonial squabble was ab- 
ruptly ended, by Berry's French man flinging open the 
door and announcing Miladi Pash and Doctor Dobus, 
which two personages made their appearance. 

The person of old Pash has been already parenthet- 
ically described. But quite different from her dismal 
niece in temperament, she is as jolly an old widow as 
ever wore weeds. She was attached somehow to the 
Court, and has a multiplicity of stories about the 
princesses and the old king, to which Mrs. Berry 
never fails to call your attention in her grave, im- 
portant way. Lady Pash has ridden many a time to 
the Windsor hounds ; she made her husband become 
a member of the Four-in-hand Club, and has number- 
less stories about Sir Godfrey Webster, Sir John Lade, 
and the old heroes of those times. She has lent a 
rouleau to Dick Sheridan, and remembers Lord Byron 
when he was a sulky, slim young lad. She says 
Charles Fox was the pleasantest fellow she ever met 
with, and has not the slightest objection to inform 
you that one of the princes was very much in love 
with her. Yet somehow she is only fifty-^two years 
old, and I have never been able to understand her 
calculation. One day or other before her eye went out, 
and before those pearly teeth of hers were stuck to 
her gums by gold, she must have been a pretty-look- 
ing body enough. Yet in spite of the latter incon- 
venience, she eats and drinks too much every day, 
and tosses off a glass of Maraschino with a trembling 
pudgy hand, every finger of which twinkles with a 
dozen, at least, of old rings. She has a story about 
every one of those rings, and a stupid one too. But 
there is always something pleasant, I think, in stupid 
family stories : they are good-hearted people who 
tell them. 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 375 

As for Mrs. Muchit, nothing need be said of her : 
she is Pash's companion, she has lived with Lady 
Pash since the peace. Nor does my lady take any 
more notice of her than of the dust of the earth. She 
calls her " poor Muchit," and considers her a half- 
Jwitted creature. Mrs. Berry hates her cordially, and 
thinks she is a designing toad-eater, who has formed 
a conspiracy to rob her of her aunt's fortune. She 
never spoke a word to poor Muchit during the whole 
of dinner, or offered to help her to anything on the 
table. 

In respect to Dobus, he is an old Peninsular man, 
as you are made to know before you have been very 
long in his company ; and, like most army surgeons, 
is a great deal more military in his looks and conver- 
sation, than the combatant part of the forces. He 
has adopted the sham-Duke-of-Wellington air, which 
is by no means uncommon in veterans ; and though 
one of the easiest and softest fellows in existence, 
speaks slowly and briefly, and raps out an oath or 
two occasionally, as it is said a certain great captain 
does. Besides the above, we sat down to table with 

Captain Goff, late of the Highlanders ; the Rev. 

Lemuel Whey, who preaches at St. Germains ; little 
Cutler, and the Frenchman, who always will be at 
English parties on the Continent, and who, after 
making some frightful efforts to speak English, sub- 
sides and is heard of no more. Young married ladies 
and heads of families generally have him for the pur- 
pose of waltzing, and in return he informs his friends 
of the club or the cafi that he has made the conquest 
of a charmante Anglaise. Listen to me, all family 
men who read this! and never let an unmarried 
Frenchman into your doors. This lecture alone is 
worth the price of the book. It is not that they do 



376 MEJP8 WIVES. 

any harm in one case out of a thousand, Heaven for- 
bid I but they mean harm. They look on our Susan- 
nahs with unholy, dishonest eyes. Hearken to two 
of the grinning rogues chattering together as they 
clink over the asphalte of the Boulevard with lac- 
quered boots, and plastered hair, and waxed mus- 
taches, and turned-down shirt-collars, and stays and 
goggling eyes, and hear how they talk of a good, 
simple, giddy, vain, dull Baker Street creature, and 
canvass her points, and show her letters, and insinu- 
ate — never mind, but I tell you my soul grows angry 
when I think of the same ; and I can't hear of an 
Englishwoman marrying a Frenchman, without feel- 
ing a sort of shame and pity for her. 1 

To return to the guests. The Rev. Lemuel Whey 
is a tea-party man, with a curl on his forehead and a 
scented pocket-handkerchief. He ties his white neck- 
cloth to a wonder, and I believe sleeps in it. He 
brings his flute with him; and prefers Handel, of 
course ; but has one or two pet profane songs of the 
sentimental kind, and will occasionally lift up his 
little pipe in a glee. He does not dance, but the 
honest fellow would give the world to do it ; and he 
leaves his clogs in the passage, though it is a wonder 
he wears them, for in the muddiest weather he never 
has a speck on his foot. He was at St John's Col- 
lege, Cambridge, and was rather gay for a term or 
two, he says. He is, in a word, full of the milk-and- 

1 Every person who has lived abroad, can, of course, point out a 
score of honorable exceptions to the case above hinted at, and 
knows many such unions in which it is the Frenchman who honors 
the English lady by marrying her. Bat it must be remembered 
that marrying in France means commonly fortune-Aunttng : and as 
for the respect in which marriage is held in France let all the 
French novels in M. Rolandi's library be perused by those who 
wish to come to a decision upon the question. 



MR. AND MR& FRANK BERRY. 377 

water of human kindness, and his family lives near 
Hackney. 

As for Goff, he has a huge, shining, bald forehead, 
and immense bristling, Indian-red whiskers. He 
wears white wash-leather gloves, drinks fairly, likes 
a rubber, and has a story for after dinner, beginning, 
"Doctor, ye racklackt Sandy M'Lellan, who joined 
us in the West Indies. Wal, sir/' etc. These and 
little Cutler made up the party. 

Now it may not have struck all readers, but any 
sharp fellow conversant with writing must have 
found out long ago, that if there had been something 
exceedingly interesting to narrate with regard to this 
dinner at Frank Berry's, I should have come out with 
it a couple of pages since, nor have kept the public 
looking for so long a time at the dish-covers and orna- 
ments of the table. 

But the simple fact must now be told, that there 
was nothing of the slightest importance occurred at 
this repast, except that it gave me an opportunity 
of studying Mrs. Berry in many different ways ; and, 
in spite of the extreme complaisance which she now 
showed me, of forming, I am sorry to say, a most un- 
favorable opinion of that fair lady. Truth to tell, I 
would much rather she should have been civil to Mrs. 
Muchit, than outrageously complimentary to your 
humble servant; and, as she professed not to know 
what on earth there was for dinner, would it not have 
been much more natural for her not to frown, and 
bob, and wink, and point, and pinch her lips as often 
as Monsieur Anatole, her French domestic, not know- 
ing the ways of English dinner-tables, placed any- 
thing out of its due order ? The allusions to Boodle 
Hall were innumerable, and I don't know any greater 
bore than to be obliged to talk of a place which be- 
longs to one's elder brother. Many questions were 



378 MEN'S WIVBS. 

likewise asked about the dowager and her Scotch 
relatives, the Plumduffs, about whom Lady Pash 
knew a great deal, having seen them at court and at 
Lord Melville's. Of course she had seen them at 
court and at Lord Melville's, as she might have seen 
thousands of Scotchmen besides ; but what mattered 
it to me, who care not a jot for old Lady Fitz-Boodle ? 
" When you write, you '11 say you met an old friend 
of her ladyship's," says Mrs. Berry, and I faithfully 
promised I would when I wrote ; but if the New Post 
Office paid us for writing letters (as very possibly it 
will soon), I could not be bribed to send a line to old 
Lady Fitz. 

In a word I found that Berry, like many simple 
fellows before him, had made choice of an imperious, 
ill-humored, and underbred female for a wife, and 
could see with half an eye that he was a great deal 
too much her slave. 

The struggle was not over yet, however. Witness 
that little encounter before dinner; and once or twice 
the honest fellow replied rather smartly during the 
repast, taking especial care to atone as much as pos- 
sible for his wife's inattention to Jack and Mrs. 
Muchit, by particular attention to those personages, 
whom he helped to everything round about and 
pressed perpetually to champagne; he drank but 
little himself, for his amiable wife's eye was con- 
stantly fixed on him. 

Just at the conclusion of the dessert, madame, who 
had boudid Berry during dinner-time, became partic- 
ularly gracious to her lord and master, and tenderly 
asked me if I did not think the French custom was a 
good one, of men leaving table with the ladies. 

" Upon my word, Ma'am," says I, " I think it 's a 
most abominable practice." 

"And so do I," says Cutler. 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 379 

" A most abominable practice ! Do you hear 
that?" cries Berry, laughing, and filling his glass. 

" I 'm sure, Frank, when we are alone you always 
come to the drawing-room," replies the lady, sharply. 

" Oh, yes ! when we 're alone, darling," says Berry, 
blushing; "but now we're not alone — ha, ha! 
Anatole, du Bordeaux!" 

"I'm sure they sat after the ladies at Carlton 
House ; did n't they, Lady Pash ? " says Dobus, who 
likes his glass. 

" That they did ! " says my lady, giving him a jolly 
nod. 

" I racklackt," exclaims Captain Goff, " when I was 
in the Mauritius, that Mestress MacWhirter, who 
commanded the Saxty-Sackond, used to say, 'Mac, 
if ye want to get lively, ye '11 not stop for more than 
two hours after the leddies have laf t ye : if ye want 
to get drunk, ye '11 just dine at the mass.' So ye see, 
Mestress Barry, what was Mac's allowance — haw, 
haw ! Mester Whey, I '11 trouble ye for the o-lives." 

But although we were in a clear majority, that 
indomitable woman, Mrs. Berry, determined to make 
us all as uneasy as possible, and would take the votes 
all round. Poor Jack, of course, sided with her, and 
Whey said he loved a cup of tea and a little music 
better than all the wine of Bordeaux. As for the 
Frenchman, when Mrs. Berry said, "And what do 
you think, M. le Vicomte?" 

" Vat you speak ? " said M. de Blagueval, breaking 
silence for the first time during two hours ; "yase — 
eh? to me you speak?" 

" Apry deeny, aimy-voo ally avec les dam ? " 

" Comment avec les dames ? " 

"Ally avec les dam com a Parry, ou resty avec les 
Messew com on Onglyterre ? " 



380 MEN'S WIVES. 

"Ah, Madame! vous me le demandez?" cries the 
little wretch, starting up in a theatrical way, and 
putting out his hand, which Mrs. Berry took, and 
with this the ladies left the room. Old Lady Pash 
trotted after her niece with her hand in Whey's, very 
much wondering at such practices, which were not 
in the least in vogue in the reign of George III. 

Mrs. Berry cast a glance of triumph at her husband, 
at the defection; and Berry was evidently annoyed 
that three-eighths of his male forces had left him. 

But fancy our delight and astonishment when in a 
minute they all three came back again ; the Frenchman 
looking entirely astonished, and the parson and the 
painter both very queer. The fact is, old downright 
Lady Pash, who had never been in Paris in her life 
before, and had no notion of being deprived of her 
usual hour's respite and nap, said at once to Mrs. 
Berry, " My dear Angelica, you 're surely not going 
to keep these three men here ? Send them back to 
the dining-room, for I 've a thousand things to say to 
you." And Angelica, who expects to inherit her 
aunt's property, of course did as she was bid; on 
which the old lady fell into an easy-chair, and fell 
asleep immediately, — so soon, that is, as the shout 
caused by the reappearance of the three gentlemen in 
the dining-room had subsided. 

I had meanwhile had some private conversation 
with little Cutler regarding the character of Mrs. 
Berry. "She's a regular screw," whispered he; "a 
regular Tartar. Berry shows fight, though, some- 
times, and I 've known him have his own way for a 
week together. After dinner he is his own master, 
and hers when he has had his share of wine : and 
that 's why she will never allow him to drink any." 

Was it a wicked or was it a noble and honorable 



MB. AND MRS. FRANK BERRT. 381 

thought which came to us both at the same minute, 
to rescue Berry from his captivity ? The ladies, of 
course, will give their verdict according to their gen- 
tle natures ; but I know what men of courage will 
think, and by their jovial judgment will abide. 

We received, then, the three lost sheep back into 
our innocent fold again with the most joyous shouting 
and cheering. We made Berry (who was, in truth, 
nothing loth) order up I don't know how much more 
claret We obliged the Frenchman to drink malgri 
luij and in the course of a short time we had poor 
Whey in such a state of excitement, that he actually 
volunteered to sing a song, which he said he had heard 
at some very gay supper-party at Cambridge, and 
which begins : — 

" A pye sat on a pear-tree, 
A pye sat on a pear-tree, 
A pye sat on a pear-tree, 
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh-ho ! " 

Fancy Mrs. Berry's face as she looked in, in the 
midst of that Bacchanalian ditty, when she saw no 
less a person than the Rev. Lemuel Whey carolling 
it! 

" Is it you, ray dear ? " cries Berry, as brave now as 
any Petruchio. "Come in, and sit down, and hear 
Whey's song." 

" Lady Pash is asleep, Frank," said she. 

" Well, darling ! that '& the very reason. Give Mrs. 
Berry a glass, Jack, will you ? " 

"Would you wake your aunt, sir?" hissed out 
madame. 

" Never mind me, love I I'm awake and like it/" 
cried the venerable Lady Pash from the salon. " Sing 
away, gentlemen ! " 



382 MEN'S WIVES. 

At which we all set up an audacious cheer; and 
Mrs. Berry flounced back to the drawing-room, bat 
did not leave the door open, that her aunt might hear 
our melodies. 

Berry had by this time arrived at that confidential 
state to which a third bottle always brings the well- 
regulated mind : and he made a clean confession to 
Cutler and myself of his numerous matrimonial an- 
noyances. He was not allowed to dine out, he said, 
and but seldom to ask his friends to meet him at 
home. He never dared smoke a cigar for the life of 
him, not even in the stables. He spent the mornings 
dawdling in eternal shops, the evenings at endless 
tea-parties, or in reading poems or missionary tracts 
to his wife. He was compelled to take physic when- 
ever she thought he looked a little pale, to change his 
shoes and stockings whenever he came in from a 
walk. " Look here," said he, opening his chest, and 
shaking his fist at Dobus; "look what Angelica and 
that infernal Dobus have brought me to." 

I thought it might be a flannel waistcoat into which 
madame had forced him : but it was worse : I give 
you my word of honor it was a pitch-plaster ! 

We all roared at this, and the doctor as loud as any 
one ; but he vowed that he had no hand in the pitch- 
plaster. It was a favorite family remedy of the late 
apothecary, Sir George Catacomb, and had been put 
on by Mrs. Berry's own fair hands. 

When Anatole came in with coffee, Berry was in 
such high courage, that he told him to go to the deuce 
with it; and we never caught sight of Lady Pash 
more, except when, muffled up to the nose, she passed 
through the sallwt-manger to go to her carriage, in 
which Dobus and the parson were likewise to be trans- 
ported to Paris. " Be a man, Frank," says she, " and 



MB. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 383 

hold your own" — for the good old lady had taken 
her nephew's part in the matrimonial business — " and 
you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, come and see him often. You 're 
a good fellow, take old one-eyed Callipash's word for 
it Shall I take you to Paris ? " 

Dear, kind Angelica, she had told her aunt all I said ! 

" Don't go, George," says Berry, squeezing me by 
the hand. So I said I was going to sleep at Versailles 
that night ; but if she would give a convoy to Jack 
Butts, it would be conferring a great obligation on 
him ; with which favor the old lady accordingly com- 
plied, saying to him, with great coolness, " Get up 
and sit with John in the rumble, Mr. What-d' ye-call- 
'im." The fact is, the good old soul despises an artist 
as much as she does a tailor. 

Jack tripped to his place very meekly ; and " Re- 
member Saturday," cried the doctor; and "Don't 
forget Thursday," exclaimed the divine, — "a bache- 
lors' party, you know." And so the cavalcade drove 
thundering down the gloomy old Avenue de Paris. 

The Frenchman, I forgot to say, had gone away 
exceedingly ill long before ; and the reminiscences of 
"Thursday " and " Saturday " evoked by Dobus and 
Whey, were, to tell the truth, parts of our conspiracy : 
for in the heat of Berry's courage, we had made him 
promise to dine with us all round en garyon ; with all 
except Captain Goff, who " racklacted " that he was 
engaged every day for the next three weeks ; as in- 
deed he is, to a thirty-sous ordinary which the gallant 
officer frequents, when not invited elsewhere. 

Cutler and I then were the last on the field ; and 
though we were for moving away, Berry, whose vigor 
had, if possible, been excited by the bustle and col- 
loquy in the night air, insisted upon dragging us back 
again, and actually proposed a grill for supper ! 



384 MEN'S WIVES. 

We found in tbe salU-b-manger a strong smell of 
an extinguished lamp, and Mrs. Berry was snuffing 
out the candles on the sideboard. 

"Hullo, my dear!" shouts Berry: "easily, if you 
please ! we 've not done yet ! " 

" Not done yet, Mr. Berry ! " groans the lady, in a 
hollow, sepulchral tone. 

" No, Mrs. B., not done yet We are going to have 
some supper, ain't we, George ? " 

" I think it 's quite time to go home," said Mr. Fitz- 
Boodle (who, to say the truth, began to tremble him- 
self). 

"I think it is, sir; you are quite right, sir; you will 
pardon me, gentlemen, I have a bad headache, and 
will retire." 

" Good-night, my dear ! " said that audacious Berry. 
" Anatole, tell the cook to broil a fowl and bring some 
wine." 

If the loving couple had been alone, or if Cutler 
had not been an attache to the embassy, before whom 
she was afraid of making herself ridiculous, I am con- 
fident that Mrs. Berry would have fainted away on 
the spot; and that all Berry's courage would have 
tumbled down lifeless by the side of her. So she 
only gave a martyrized look, and left the room; and 
while we partook of the very unnecessary repast, was 
good enough to sing some hymn tunes to an exceed- 
ingly slow movement in the next room, intimating 
that she was awake, and that, though suffering, she 
found her consolations in religion. 

These melodies did not in the least add to our 
friend's courage. The devilled fowl had, somehow, 
no devil in it The champagne in the glasses looked 
exceedingly flat and blue. The fact is, that Cutler 
and I were now both in a state of dire consternation, 



MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 385 

and soon made a move for our hats, and lighting each 
a cigar in the hall, made across the little green where 
the Cupids and Nymphs were listening to the drib- 
bling fountain in the dark. 

" I 'm hanged if I don't have a cigar too ! " says 
Berry, rushing after us; and accordingly putting in 
his pocket a key about the size of a shovel, which 
hung by the little handle of the outer grille, forth 
he sallied, and joined us in our fumigation. 

He stayed with us a couple of hours, and returned 
homewards in perfect good spirits, having given me 
his word of honor he would dine with us the next 
day. He put in his immense key into the grille, and 
unlocked it; but the gate would not open: it was 
bolted within. 

He began to make a furious jangling and ringing 
at the bell ; and in oaths, both French and English, 
called upon the recalcitrant Anatole. 

After much tolling of the bell, a light came cutting 
across the crevices of the inner door ; it was thrown 
open, and a figure appeared with a lamp, — a tall, 
slim figure of a woman, clothed in white from head to 
foot. 

It was Mrs. Berry, and when Cutler and I saw her, 
we both ran away as fast as our legs could carry us. 

Berry, at this, shrieked with, a wild laughter. 
" Remember to-morrow, old boys," shouted he, — 
"six o'clock;" and we were a quarter of a mile off 
when the gate closed, and the little mansion of the 
Avenue de Paris was once more quiet and dark. 

The next afternoon, as we were playing at billiards, 

Cutler saw Mrs. Berry drive by in her carriage ; and 

as soon as rather a long rubber was over, I thought I 

would go and look for our poor friend; and so went 

vol. xxix.— 26 



MEN'S W1VK& 

down to the Pavilion. Every door was open, as the 
wont is in France, and I walked in unannounced, and 
sawthis: 

He was playing a duet with her on the flute. She 
had been out but for half an hour, after not speaking 
all the morning; and having seen Cutler at the 
billiard-room window, and suspecting we might take 
advantage of her absence, she had suddenly returned 
home again, and had flung herself, weeping, into her 
Frank's arms, and said she could not bear to leave 
him in anger. And so, after sitting for a little while 
sobbing on his knee, she had forgotten and forgiven 
everything ! 

The dear angel ! I met poor Frank in Bond Street 
only yesterday ; but he crossed over to the other side 
of the way. He had on goloshes, and is grown very 
fat and pale. He has shaved off his mustaches, and 
instead, wears a respirator. He has taken his name 
off all his clubs, and lives very grimly in Baker 
Street Well, ladies, no doubt you say he is right 
and what are the odds, so long as you are happy ? 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 



There was an odious Irishwoman and her daughter 
who used to frequent the " Royal Hotel " at Leaming- 
ton some years ago, and who went by the name of 
Mrs. Major Gam. Gam had been a distinguished 
officer in his Majesty's service, whom nothing but 
death and his own amiable wife could overcome. 
The widow mourned her husband in the most becom- 
ing bombazine she could muster, and had at least 
half an inch of lampblack round the immense visit- 
ing-tickets which she left at the houses of the nobility 
and gentry her friends. 

Some of us, I am sorry to say, used to call her Mrs. 
Major Gammon; for if the worthy widow had a pro- 
pensity, it was to talk largely of herself and family 
(of her own family, for she held her husband's very 
cheap), and of the wonders of her paternal mansion, . 
Molloyville, county of Mayo. She was of the Molloys 
of that county; and though I never heard of the 
family before, I have little doubt, from what Mrs. 
Major Gam stated, that they were the most ancient 
and illustrious family of that part of Ireland. I 
remember there came down to see his aunt a young 
fellow with huge red whiskers and tight nankeens, a 
green coat and an awful breastpin, who, after two 
days' stay at the Spa, proposed marriage to Miss 
8 , or, in default, a duel with her father; and 



MEN'S WIVES. 

who drove a flash, curricle with a bay and a gray, and 
who was presented with much pride by Mrs. Gam as 
Castlereagh Molloy of Molloyville. We all agreed 
that he was the most insufferable snob of the whole 
season, and were delighted when a bailiff came down 
in search of him. 

Well, this is all I know personally of the Molloy- 
ville family ; but at the house if you met the Widow 
Gain, and talked on any subject in life, you were sure 
to hear of it. If you asked her to have peas at 
dinner, she would say, "Oh, sir, after the peas at 
Molloyville, I really don't care for any others, — do 
I, dearest Jemima? We always had a dish in the 
month of June, when my father gave his head 
gardener a guinea (we had three at Molloyville), and 
sent him with his compliments and a quart of peas 
to our neighbor, dear Lord Marrowfat. What a 
sweet place Marrowfat Park is ! isn't it, Jemima?" 
If a carriage passed by the window, Mrs. Major 
Gammon would be sure to tell you that there were 
' three carriages at Molloyville, " the barouche, the 
chawiot, and the covered cyar." In the same manner 
she would favor you with the number and names of 
the footmen of the establishment; and on a visit to 
Warwick Castle (for this bustling woman made one 
in every party of pleasure that was formed from the 
hotel), she gave us to understand that the great walk 
by the river was altogether inferior to the principal 
avenue of Molloyville Park. I should not have been 
able to tell so much about Mrs. Gam and her daugh- 
ter, but that, between ourselves, I was particularly 
sweet upon a young lady at the time, whose papa 
lived at the "Royal," and was under the care of Dr. 
Jephson. 

The Jemima appealed to by Mrs. Gam in the above 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 

sentence was, of course, her daughter, apostrophized 
by her mother, "Jemima, my soul's darling!" or 
"Jemima, my blessed child ! " or "Jemima, my own 
love ! " The sacrifices that Mrs. Gam had made for 
that daughter were, she said, astonishing. The 
money she had spent in masters upon her, the ill- 
nesses through which she had nursed her, the in- 
effable love the mother bore her, were only known to 
Heaven, Mrs. Gam said. They used to come into the 
room with their arms round each other's waists : at 
dinner between the courses the mother would sit with 
one hand locked in her daughter's ; and if only two 
or three young men were present at the time, would 
be pretty sure to kiss her Jemima more than once 
during the time whilst the bohea was poured out 

As for Miss Gam, if she was not handsome, candor 
forbids me to say she was ugly. She was neither one 
nor t'other. She was a person who wore ringlets 
and a band round her forehead ; she knew four songs, 
which became rather tedious at the end of a couple 
of month's acquaintance; she had excessively bare 
shoulders; she inclined to wear numbers of cheap 
ornaments, rings, brooches, ferron&res, smelling- 
bottles, and was always, we thought, very smartly 
dressed: though old Mrs. Lynx hinted that her 
gowns and her mother's were turned over and over 
again, and that her eyes were almost put out by 
darning stockings. 

These eyes Miss Gam had very large, though 
rather red and weak, and used to roll them about at 
every eligible unmarried man in the place. But 
though the widow subscribed to all the balls, though 
she hired a fly to go to the meet of the hounds, 
though she was constant at church, and Jemima sang 
louder than any person there except the clerk, and 



390 MEN'S WIVES. 

though, probably, any person who made her a happy 
husband would be invited down to enjoy the three 
footmen, gardeners, and carriages at Molloyville, yet 
no English gentleman was found sufficiently auda- 
cious to propose. Old Lynx used to say that the pair 
had been at Tunbridge, Harrogate, Brighton, Bams- 1 
gate, Cheltenham, for this eight years past; where 
they had met, it seemed, with no better fortune. 
Indeed, the widow looked rather high for her blessed 
child : and as she looked with the contempt which no 
small number of Irish people feel upon all persons 
who get their bread by labor or commerce ; and as 
she was a person whose energetic manners, costume, 
and brogue were not much to the taste of quiet Eng- 
lish country gentlemen, Jemima — sweet, spotless 
flower — still remained on her hands, a thought with- 
ered, perhaps, and seedy. 

Now, at this time, the 120th Regiment was quar- 
tered at Weedon Barracks, and with the corps was a 
oertain Assistant-Surgeon Haggarty, a large, lean, 
tough, raw-boned man, with big hands, knock-knees, 
and carroty whiskers, and, withal, as honest a crea- 
ture as ever handled a lancet Haggarty, as his 
name imports, was of the very same nation as Mrs. 
Oam, and, what is more, the honest fellow had some 
of the peculiarities which belonged to the widow, and 
bragged about his family almost as much as she did. 
I do not know of what particular part of Ireland they 
were kings, but monarchs they must have been, as 
have been the ancestors of so many thousand Hiber- 
nian families ; but they had been men of no small 
consideration in Dublin, "where my father," Hag- 
garty said, "is as well known as King William's 
statue, and where he 'rowls his carriage, too/ let me 
tell ye." 



DENNIS HAGGABTY'S WIFE. 391 

Hence, Haggarty was called by the wags "Bowl 
the carriage," and several of them made inquiries of 
Mrs. Gram regarding him: "Mrs. Gram, when yon 
used to go up from Molloyville to the Lord Lieuten- 
ant's balls, and had your town-house in Fitzwilliam 
Square, used you to meet the famous Doctor Haggarty 
in society ? " 

"Is it Surgeon Haggarty of Gloucester Street ye 
mean? The black Papist! D'ye suppose that the 
Molloys would sit down to table with a creature of 
that sort ? " 

"Why, isn't he the most famous physician in 
Dublin, and doesn't he rowl his carriage there?" 

"The horrid wretch ! He keeps a shop, I tell ye, 
and sends his sons out with the medicine. He 's got 
four of them off into the army, Ulick and Phil, and 
Terence and Denny, and now it 's Charles that takes 
out the physic. But how should I know about these 
odious creatures? Their mother was a Burke, of 
Burke's Town, county Cavan, and brought Surgeon 
Haggarty two thousand pounds. She was a Protes- 
tant ; and I am surprised how she could have taken 
up with a horrid, odious, Popish apothecary 1 " 

From the extent of the widow's information, I am 
led to suppose that the inhabitants of Dublin are not 
less anxious about their neighbors than are the 
natives of English cities ; and I think it is very prob- 
able that Mrs. Gram's account of the young Haggarties 
who carried out the medicine is perfectly correct, for 
a lad in the 120th made a caricature of Haggarty 
coming out of a chemist's shop with an oil-cloth 
basket under his arm, which set the worthy surgeon 
in such a fury that there would have been a duel 
between him and the ensign, could the fiery doctor 
have had his way. 



392 MEN'S WIVBS. 

Now, Dionysius Haggarty was of an exceedingly 
inflammable temperament, and it chanced that of all 
the invalids, the visitors, the young squires of War- 
wickshire, the young manufacturers from Birming- 
ham, the young officers from the barracks — it 
chanced, unluckily for Miss Gram and himself, that he 
was the only individual who was in the least smitten 
by her personal charms. He was very tender and 
modest about his love, however, for it must be owned 
that he respected Mrs. Gam hugely, and fully admit- 
ted, like a good simple fellow as he was, the superi- 
ority of that lady's birth and breeding to his own. 
How could he hope that he, a humble assistant-sur- 
geon, with a thousand pounds his aunt Kitty left him 
for all his fortune, — how could he hope that one of 
the race of Molloyville would ever condescend to 
marry him ? 

Inflamed, however, by love, and inspired by wine, 
one day at a picnic at Kenilworth, Haggarty, whose 
love and raptures were the talk of the whole regiment, 
was induced by his waggish comrades to make a pro- 
posal in form. 

"Are you aware, Mr. Haggarty, that you are speak- 
ing to a Molloy?" was all the reply majestic Mrs. 
Gam made when, according to the usual formula, the 
fluttering Jemima referred her suitor to "mamma." 
She left him with a look which was meant to crush 
the poor fellow to earth ; she gathered up her cloak 
and bonnet, and precipitately called for her fly. She 
took care to tell every single soul in Leamington that 
the son of the odious Papist apothecary had had the 
audacity to propose for her daughter (indeed a pro- 
posal, coming from whatever quarter it may, does no 
harm), and left Haggarty in a state of extreme de- 
pression and despair. 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 393 

His down-heartedness, indeed, surprised most of 
his acquaintances in and out of the regiment, for the 
young lady was no beauty, and a doubtful fortune, 
and Dennis was a man outwardly of an unromantic 
turn, who seemed to have a great deal more liking for 
beefsteak and whiskey-punch than for women, how- 
ever fascinating. 

But there is no doubt this shy, uncouth, rough 
fellow had a warmer and more faithful heart hid 
within him than many a dandy who is as handsome 
as Apollo. I, for my part, never can understand why 
a man falls in love, and heartily give him credit for 
so doing, never mind with what or whom. That, I 
take to be a point quite as much beyond an individ- 
ual's own control as the catching of the small-pox or 
the color of his hair. To the surprise of all, Assis- 
tant-Surgeon Dionysius Haggarty was deeply and 
seriously in love ; and I am told that one day he very 
nearly killed the before-mentioned young ensign with 
a carving-knife, for venturing to make a second cari- 
cature, representing Lady Gammon and Jemima in a 
fantastical park, surrounded by three gardeners, three 
carriages, three footmen, and the covered cyar. He 
would have no joking concerning them. He became 
moody and quarrelsome of habit. He was for some 
time much more in the surgery and hospital than 
in the mess. He gave up the eating, for the most 
part, of those vast quantities of beef and pudding, 
for which his stomach had used to afford such ample 
and swift accommodation; and when the cloth was 
drawn, instead of taking twelve tumblers, and sing- 
ing Irish melodies, as he used to do, in a horrible 
cracked yelling voice, he would retire to his own 
apartment, or gloomily pace the barrack-yard, or 
madly whip and spur a gray mare he had on the road 



394 HEN'S WIVES. 

to Leamington, where his Jemima (although invisible 
for him) still dwelt. 

The season at Leamington coming to a conclusion 
by the withdrawal of the young fellows who fre- 
quented that watering-place, the Widow Gam retired 
to her usual quarters for the other months of the 
year. Where these quarters were I think we have no 
right to ask, for I believe she had quarrelled with her 
brother at Molloyville, and besides, was a great deal 
too proud to be a burden on anybody. 

Not only did the widow quit Leamington, but very 
soon afterwards the 120th received its marching 
orders, and left Weedon and Warwickshire. Hag- 
garty*8 appetite was by this time partially restored, 
but his love was not altered, and his humor was still 
morose and gloomy. I am informed that at this 
period of his life he wrote some poems relative to his 
unhappy passion, a wild set of verses of several 
lengths, and in his handwriting, being discovered 
upon a sheet of paper in which a pitch-plaster was 
wrapped up, which Lieutenant and Adjutant Wheezer 
was compelled to put on for a cold. 

Fancy then, three years afterwards, the surprise of 
all Haggarty's acquaintances on reading in the public 
papers the following announcement : — 

" Married, at Monkstown on the 12th instant, Dionysius 
Haggarty, Esq., of the H. M. 120th Foot, to Jemima Amelia 
Wilhelmina Molloy, daughter of the late Major Lancelot Gam, 
B. M., and granddaughter of the late and niece of the present 
Burke Bodkin Blake Molloy, Esq., Molloyville, oouDty 
Mayo." 

"Has the course of true love at last begun to run 
smooth ? " thought I, as I laid down the paper ; and 
the old times, and the old leering, bragging widow, 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'8 WIFE. 395 

and the high shoulders of her daughter, and the jolly 
days with the 120th, and Dr. Jephson's one-horse 
chaise, and the Warwickshire hunt, and — and Louisa 

S , but never mind her, — came back to my mind. 

Has that good-natured, simple fellow at last met with 
his reward ? Well, if he has not to marry the mother- 
in-law too, he may get on well enough. 

Another year announced the retirement of Assistant- 
Surgeon Haggarty from the 120th, where he was 
replaced by Assistant-Surgeon Angus Eothsay Leech, 
a Scotchman, probably; with whom I have not the 
least acquaintance, and who has nothing whatever to 
do with this little history. 

Still more years passed on, during which time I will 
not say that I kept a constant watch upon the for- 
tunes of Mr. Haggarty and his lady, for, perhaps, if 
the truth were known, I never thought for a moment 
about them ; until one day, being at Kingstown, near 
Dublin, dawdling on the beach, and staring at the Hill 
of Howth, as most people at that watering-place do, 
I saw coming towards me a tall gaunt man, with a 
pair of bushy red whiskers, of which I thought I had 
seen the like in former years, and a face which could 
be no other than Haggarty's. It was Haggarty, ten 
years older than when we last met, and greatly more 
grim and thin. He had on one shoulder a young 
gentleman in a dirty tartan costume, and a face ex- 
ceedingly like his own peeping from under a battered 
plume of black feathers, while with his other hand he 
was dragging a light green go-cart, in which reposed 
a female infant of some two years old. Both were 
roaring with great power of lungs. 

As soon as Dennis saw me, his face lost the dull, 
puzzled expression which had seemed to characterize 



396 MEN'S WIVES. 

it ; he dropped the pole of the go-cart from one hand, 
and his son from the other and came jumping for- 
ward to greet me with all his might, leaving his pro- 
geny roaring in the road. 

"Bless my sowl," says he, "sure it's Fitz-Boodle ? 
Fitz, don't you remember me ? Dennis Haggarty of 
the 120th ? Leamington, you know ? Molloy, my boy, 
hould your tongue, and stop your screeching, and 
Jemima's too; d'ye hear? Well, it does good to 
sore eyes to see an old face. How fat you 're grown, 
Fitz ; and were ye ever in Ireland before ? and a'n't ye 
delighted with it ? Confess, now, is n't it beautiful ? " 

This question regarding the merits of their country, 
which I have remarked is put by most Irish persons, 
being answered in a satisfactory manner, and the 
shouts of the infants appeased from an apple-stall 
hard by, Dennis and I talked of old times ; I congra- 
tulated him on his marriage with the lovely girl whom 
we all admired, and hoped he had a fortune with her, 
and so forth. His appearance, however, did not be- 
speak a great fortune : he had an old gray hat, short 
old trousers, an old waistcoat with regimental buttons, 
and patched Blucher boots, such as are not usually 
sported by persons in easy life. 

" Ah ! " says he, with a sigh, in reply to my queries, 
"times are changed since them days, Fitz-Boodle. 
My wife 's not what she was — the beautiful creature 
you knew her. Molloy, my boy, run off in a 
hurry to your mamma, and tell her an English gentle- 
man is coming home to dine ; for you 'U dine with 
me, Fitz, in course ? " And I agreed to partake of 
that meal ; though Master Molloy altogether declined 
to obey his papa's orders with respect to announcing 
the stranger. 

"Well, I must announce you myself,' 1 said Hag- 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 397 

garty, with a smile. "Come, it's just dinner-time, 
and my little cottage is not a hundred yards off." 
Accordingly, we all marched in procession to Dennis's 
little cottage, which was one of a row and a half of 
one-storied houses, with little court-yards before them, 
and mostly with very fine names on the door-posts of 
each. "Surgeon Haggarty" was emblazoned on 
Dennis's gate, on a stained green copper-plate ; and, 
not content with this, on the door-post above the bell 
was an oval with the inscription of " New Molloy- 
ville." The bell was broken, of course ; the court, or 
garden-path, was mouldy, weedy, seedy; there were 
some dirty rocks, by way of ornament, round a faded 
grass-plot in the centre, some clothes and rags hang- 
ing out of most part of the windows of New Molloy- 
ville, the immediate entrance to which was by a bat- 
tered scraper under a broken trellis-work, up which a 
withered creeper declined any longer to climb. 

"Small but snug," says Haggarty: "I'll lead the 
way Fitz ; put your hat on the flower-pot there, and 
turn to the left into the drawing-room." A fog of 
onions and turf-smoke filled the whole of the house, 
and gave signs that dinner was not far off Far off ? 
You could hear it frizzing in the kitchen, where the 
maid was also endeavoring to hush the crying of a 
third refractory child. But as we entered, all three 
of Haggarty's darlings were in full war. 

" Is it you, Dennis ? " cried a sharp raw voice, from 
a dark corner in the drawing-room to which we were 
introduced, and in which a dirty tablecloth was laid 
for dinner, some bottles of porter and a cold mutton- 
bone being laid out on a rickety grand-piano hard by. 
" Ye 're always late, Mr. Haggarty. Have you 
brought the whiskey from Nowlan's? I'll go bail 
ye've not now." 



398^ MEN'S WIVES. 

"My dear, I 'ye brought an old friend of yours and 
mine to take pot-luck with us to-day," said Dennis. 

" When is he to oome ? " said the lady. At which 
speech I was rather surprised, for I stood before her. 

"Here he is, Jemima my love/' answered Dennis, 
looking at me. "Mr. Fitz-Boodle; don't you remem- 
ber him in Warwickshire, darling ? " 

"Mr. Fitz-Boodle ! I am very glad to see him," 
said the lady, rising and curtsying with much 
cordiality. 

Mrs. Haggarty was blind. 

Mrs. Haggarty was not only blind, but it was evident 
that small-pox had been the cause of her loss of vision. 
Her eyes were bound with a bandage, her features 
were entirely swollen, scarred, and distorted by the 
horrible effects of the malady. She had been knitting 
in a corner when we entered, and was wrapped in a 
very dirty bedgown. Her voice to me was quite 
different to that, in which she addressed her husband. 
She spoke to Haggarty in broad Irish : she addressed 
me in that most odious of all languages — Irish- 
English, endeavoring to the utmost to disguise her 
brogue, and to speak with the true dawdling distingut 
English air. 

"Are you long in I-a-land ? " said the poor creature 
in this accent. "You must find it a sad ba'ba'ous 
place, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, I'm shu-ahl It was vary 
kaind of you to come upon us enfamille and accept a 
dinner sans ceremonie. Mr. Haggarty, I hope you 11 
put the waine into aioe, Mr. Fitz-Boodle must be 
melted with this hot weathah." 

For some time she conducted the conversation in 
this polite strain, and I was obliged to say in reply to 
a query of hers, that I did not find her the least 
altered, though I should never have recognized her 



DENNI8 HAGGABTY'S WIFE. 399 

but for this rencontre. She told Haggarty with a 
significant air to get the wine from the oellah, and 
whispered to me that he was his own butlah ; and the 
poor fellow, taking the hint, scudded away into the 
town for a pound of veal outlets and a couple of 
bottles of wine from the tavern. 

"Will the childhren get their potatoes and butther 
here ? " said a barefoot girl, with long black hair 
flowing over her face, which she thrust in at the 
door. 

"Let them sup in the nursery, Elizabeth, and send 
— ah ! Edwards to me." 

" Is it cook you mane, Ma'am ? " said the girl. 

"Send her at once I" shrieked the unfortunate 
woman ; and the noise of frying presently ceasing, a 
hot woman made her appearance, wiping her brows 
with her apron, and asking, with an accent decidedly 
Hibernian, what the misthress wanted. 

"Lead me up to my dressing-room, Edwards: I 
really am not fit to be seen in this dishabille by Mr. 
Fite-Boodle. 

"Fait' I can't!" says Edwards; "sure the mas- 
ther's out at the butcher's, and can't look to the 
kitchen fire I" 

"Nonsense, I must go!" cried Mrs. Haggarty; and 
so Edwards, putting on a resigned air, and giving her 
arm and face a further rub with her apron, held out 
her arm to Mrs. Dennis, and the pair went up stairs. 

She left me to indulge my reflections for half an 
hour, at the end of which period she came down 
stairs dressed in an old yellow satin, with the poor 
shoulders exposed just as much as ever. She had 
mounted a tawdry cap, which Haggarty himself must 
have selected for her. She had all sorts of necklaces, 
bracelets, and earrings in gold, in garnets, in mother- 



400 MEN'S WIVES. 

of-pearl, in ormolu. She brought in a furious savor 
of musk, which drove the odors of onions and turf- 
smoke before it ; and she waved across her wretched 
angular, mean, scarred features, an old cambric hand- 
kerchief with a yellow lace border. 

"And so you would have known me anywhere, Mr. 
Fitz-Boodle ? " said she, with a grin that was meant 
to be most fascinating. " I was sure you would ; for 
though my dreadful illness deprived me of my sight, 
it is a mercy that it did not change my features or 
complexion at all I" 

This mortification had been spared the unhappy 
woman; but I don't know whether, with all her 
vanity, her infernal pride, folly, and selfishness, it 
was charitable to leave her in her error. 

Yet why correct her ? There is a quality in certain 
persons which is above all advice, exposure, or cor- 
rection. Only let a man or woman have dulness suffi- 
cient, and they need bow to no extant authority. A 
dullard recognizes no betters ; a dullard can't see that 
he is in the wrong ; a dullard has no scruples of con- 
science, no doubts of pleasing, or succeeding, or doing 
right; no qualms for other people's feelings, no re- 
spect but for the fool himself. How can you make a 
fool perceive that he is a fool ? Such a personage can 
no more see his own folly than he can see his own ears. 
And the great quality of dulness is to be unalterably 
contented with itself. What myriads of souls are 
there of this admirable sort, — selfish, stingy, igno- 
rant, passionate, brutal; bad sons, mothers, fathers, 
never known to do kind actions I 

To pause, however, in this disquisition, which 
was carrying us far off Kingstown, New Molloyville, 
Ireland, — nay, into the wide world wherever Dulness 
inhabits, let it be stated that Mrs. Haggarty, from my 



DENNIS HAGGARTTS WIFE. 401 

brief acquaintance with her and her mother, was of 
the order of persons just mentioned. There was an 
air of conscious merit about her, very hard to swallow 
along with the infamous dinner poor Dennis managed, 
after much delay, to get on the table. She did not 
fail to invite me to Molloyville, where she said her 
cousin would be charmed to see me ; and she told me 
almost as many anecdotes about that place as her 
mother used to impart in former days. I observed, 
moreover, that Dennis cut her the favorite pieces of 
the beefsteak, that she ate thereof with great gusto, 
and that she drank with similar eagerness of the 
various strong liquors at table. " We Irish ladies are 
all fond of a leetle glass of punch," she said, with a 
playful air, and Dennis mixed her a powerful tumbler 
of such violent grog as I myself could swallow only 
with some difficulty. She talked of her sufferings a 
great deal, of her sacrifices, of the luxuries to which 
she had been accustomed before marriage, — in a word, 
of a hundred of those themes on which some ladies 
are in the custom of enlarging when they wish to 
plague some husbands. 

But honest Dennis, far from being angry at this 
perpetual, wearisome, impudent recurrence to her own 
superiority, rather encouraged the conversation than 
otherwise. It pleased him to hear his wife discourse 
about her merits and family splendors. He was so 
thoroughly beaten down and henpecked, that he, as it 
were, gloried in his servitude, and fancied that his 
wife's magnificence reflected credit on himself. He 
looked toward me, who was half sick of the woman 
and her egotism, as if expecting me to exhibit the 
deepest sympathy, and flung me glances across the 
table as much as to say, " What a gifted creature my 
Jemima is, and what a fine fellow I am to be in pos- 
voL.xxix.— 26 



402 MEN'S WIVE& 

session of her ! " When the children came down she 
scolded them of course, and dismissed them abruptly 
(for which circumstance, perhaps, the writer of these 
pages was not in his heart very sorry), and, after 
having sat a preposterously long time, left us, ask- 
ing whether we would have coffee there or in her 
boudoir. 

"Oh ! here of course/' said Dennis, with rather a 
troubled air, and in about ten minutes the lovely 
creature was led back to us again by " Edwards/' and 
the coffee made its appearance. After coffee her hus- 
band begged her to let Mr. Fitz-Boodle hear her voice : 
" He longs for some of his old favorites. 1 ' 

"No! do you?" said she; and was led in triumph 
to the jingling old piano, and with a screechy, wiry 
voice, sung those very abominable old ditties which I 
had heard her sing at Leamington ten years back. 

Haggarty, as she sang, flung himself back in the 
chair delighted. Husbands always are, and with the 
same song, one that they have heard when they were 
nineteen years old, probably; most Englishmen's 
tunes have that date, and it is rather affecting, I 
think, to hear an old gentleman of sixty or seventy 
quavering the old ditty that was fresh when he was 
fresh and in his prime. If he has a musical wife, 
depend on it he thinks her old songs, of 1788 are 
better than any he has heard since: in fact he has 
heard none since. When the old couple are in high 
good-humor the old gentleman will take the old lady 
round the waist, and say, " My dear, do sing me one 
of your own songs/' and she sits down and sings with 
her old voice, and, as she sings, the roses of her youth 
bloom again for a moment. Banelagh resuscitates, 
and she is dancing a minuet in powder and a train. 

This is another digression. It was occasioned by 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 403 

looking at poor Dennis's face while his wife was 
screeching (and, believe me, the former was the most 
pleasant occupation). Bottom tickled by the fairies 
could not have been in greater ecstasies. He thought 
the music was divine; and had further reason for 
exulting in it, which was, that his wife was always in 
a good-humor after singing, and never would sing 
but in that happy frame of mind. Dennis had hinted 
so much in our little colloquy during the ten minutes 
of his lady's absence in the " boudoir ; " so, at the 
conclusion of each piece, we shouted " Bravo ! " and 
clapped our hands like mad. 

Such was my insight into the life of Surgeon 
Dionysius Haggarty and his wife ; and I must have 
come upon him at a favorable moment too, for poor 
Dennis has spoken, subsequently, of our delightful 
evening at Kingstown, and evidently thinks to this 
day that his friend was fascinated by the entertain- 
ment there. His inward economy was as follows : he 
had his half-pay, a thousand pounds, about a hundred 
a year that his father left, and hi& wife had sixty 
pounds a year from the mother ; which the mother, 
of course, never paid. He had no practice, for he 
was absorbed in attention to his Jemima and the chil- 
dren, whom he used to wash, to dress, to carry out, to 
walk, or to ride, as we have seen, and who could not 
have a servant, as their dear blind mother could' never 
be left alone. Mrs. Haggarty, a great invalid, used 
to lie in bed till one, and have breakfast and hot 
luncheon there. A fifth part of his income was spent 
in having her wheeled about in a chair, by which it 
was his duty to walk daily for an allotted number of 
hours. Dinner would ensue, and the amateur clergy, 
who abound in Ireland, and of whom Mrs. Haggarty 
was a great admirer, lauded her everywhere as a 



404 MEN'S WIVEa 

model of resignation and virtue, and praised beyond 
measure the admirable piety with which she bore her 
sufferings. 

Well, every man to his taste. It did not certainly 
appear to me that she was the martyr of the family. 

" The circumstances of my marriage with Jemima,' 1 
Dennis said to me, in some after conversations we 
had on this interesting subject, " were the most ro- 
mantic and touching you can conceive. You saw 
what an impression the dear girl had made upon me 
when we were at Weedon ; for from the first day I 
set eyes on her, and heard her sing her delightful 
song of ' Dark-eyed Maiden of Araby,' I felt, and said 
to Turniquet of ours, that very night, that she was 
the dark-eyed maid of Araby for me, — not that she 
was, you know, for she was born in Shropshire. But 
I felt that I had seen the woman who was to make 
me happy or miserable for life. You know how I 
proposed for her at Kenilworth, and how I was re- 
jected, and how I almost shot myself in consequence, 
— no, you don't know that, for I said nothing about 
it to any one, but I can tell you it was a very near 
thing ; and a very lucky thing for me I didn't do it : 
for, — would you believe it? — the dear girl was in 
love with me all the time." 

"Was she really?" said I, who recollected that 
Miss (Jam's love of those days showed itself in a very 
singular manner: but the fact is, when women are 
most in love they most disguise it. 

"Over head and ears in love with poor Dennis," 
resumed that worthy fellow; " who'd ever have 
thought it ? But I have it from the best authority, 
from her own mother, with whom I 'm not over and 
above good friends now ; but of this fact she assured 
me, and I '11 tell you when and how. 



DENNI8 HAGGARTY'8 WIPE. 405 

" We were quartered at Cork three years after we 
were at Weedon, and it was our last year at home ; 
and a great mercy that my dear girl spoke in time, 
or where should we have been now ? Well, one day, 
marching home from parade, I saw a lady seated at 
an open window by another who seemed an invalid, 
and the lady at the window, who was dressed in the 
profoundest mourning, cried out, with a scream, 
' Gracious heavens ! it 's Mr. Haggarty of the 120th.' 

" 'Sure I know that voice/ says I to Whiskerton.' 

" ' It 's a great mercy you don't know it a deal too 
well, 9 says he: 'it's Lady Gammon. She's on some 
husband-hunting scheme, depend on it, for that 
daughter of hers. She was at Bath last year on the 
same errand, and at Cheltenham the year before, 
where, Heaven bless you ! she 's as well known as the 
"Hen and Chickens."' 

" ' I '11 thank 4 you not to speak disrespectfully .of 
Miss Jemima Gum,' said I to Whiskerton; 'she's 
of one of the first families in Ireland, and whoever 
says a word against a woman I once proposed for, 
insults me, — do you understand?' 

"'Well, marry her, if you like,' says Whiskerton, 
quite peevish : ' marry her, and be hanged ! ' 

"Marry her! the very idea of it set my brain a- 
whirling, and made me a thousand times more mad 
than I am by nature. 

"You may be sure I walked up the hill to the 
parade-ground that afternoon, and with a beating 
heart too. I came to the widow's house. It was 
called 'New Molloyville,' as this is. Wherever she 
takes a house for six months, she calls it 'New 
Molloyville ; ' and has had one in Mallow, in Bandon, 
in Sligo, in Castlebar, in Fermoy, in Drogheda, and 
the deuce knows where besides : but the blinds were 



406 MEN'S WIVB& 

down, and though I thought I saw somebody behind 
'em, no notice was taken of poor Denny Haggarty, 
and I paced up and down all mess-time in hopes of 
catching a glimpse of Jemima, but in vain. The 
next day I was on the ground again; I was just as 
much in love as ever, that's the fact. I'd never 
been in that way before, look you; and when once 
caught, I knew it was for life. 

" There 's no use in telling you how long I beat 
about the bush, but when I did get admittance to the 
house (it was through the means of young Castle- 
reagh Molloy, whom you may remember at Leaming- 
ton, and who was at Cork for the regatta, and used 
to dine at our mess, and had taken a mighty fancy 
to me) — when I did get into the house, I say I 
rushed in medias res at once : I could n't keep myself 
quiet, my heart was too full. 

"Oh, Fitz! I shall never forget the day, — the 
moment I was inthrojuiced into the dthrawing-room" 
(as he began to be agitated, Dennis's brogue broke 
out with greater richness than ever; but though a 
stranger may catch, and repeat from memory, a few 
words, it is next to impossible for him to keep up a 
conversation in Irish, so that we had best give up all 
attempts to imitate Dennis). "When I saw old 
Mother Gam," said he, " my feelings overcame me 
all at once. I rowled down on the ground, sir, as if 
I'd been hit by a musket-ball. 'Dearest madam,' 
says I, 'I'll die if you don't give me Jemima.' 

"'Heavens, Mr. Haggarty!' says she, 'how you 
seize me with surprise ! Gastlereagh, my dear nephew, 
had you not better leave us?' and away he went, 
lighting a cigar, and leaving me still on the floor. 

"'Rise, Mr. Haggarty,' continued the widow. 'I 
Will not attempt to deny that this constancy towards 



DENNIS HAGGABTY'S WIFE. 407 

my daughter is extremely affecting, however sudden 
your present appeal may be. I will not attempt to 
deny that, perhaps, Jemima may have a similar feel- 
ing ; but, as I said, I never could give my daughter 
to a Catholic.' 

"'I'm as good a Protestant as yourself, Ma'am,' 
says I; 'my mother was an heiress, and we were all 
brought up her way.' 

" ' That makes the matter very different,' says she, 
turning up the whites of her eyes. 'How could I 
ever have reconciled it to my conscience to see my 
blessed child married to a Papist ? How could I 
ever have taken him to Molloyville? Well, this 
obstacle being removed, / must put myself no longer 
in the way between two young people. I must sac- 
rifice myself; as I always have when my darling 
girl was in question. You shall see her, the poor 
dear, lovely, gentle sufferer, and learn your fate from 
her own lips.' 

"'The sufferer, Ma'am,' says I; 'has Miss Gam 
been ill ? ' 

" ' What I have n't you heard ? ' cried the widow. 
1 Have n't you heard of the dreadful illness which so 
nearly carried her from me? For nine weeks, Mr. 
Haggarty, I watched her day and night, without tak- 
ing a wink of sleep, — for nine weeks she lay trem- 
bling between death and life ; and I paid the doctor 
eighty-three guineas. She is restored now ; but she is 
the wreck of the beautiful creature she was. Suffer- 
ing, and, perhaps, another disappointment — but we 
won't mention that now — have so pulled her down. 
But I will leave you, and prepare my sweet girl for 
this strange, this entirely unexpected visit.' 

" I won't tell you what took place between me and 
Jemima, to whom I was introduced as she sat in the 



408 MEN'S WIVE& 

darkened room, poor sufferer! nor describe to you 
with what a thrill of joy I seized (after groping about 
for it) her poor emaciated hand. She did not with- 
draw it ; I came out of that room an engaged man, 
sir ; and now I was enabled to show her that I had 
always loved her sincerely, for there was my will, 
made three years back, in her favor : that night she 
refused me, as I told ye. I would have shot myself, 
but they 'd have brought me in non compos ; and my 
brother Mick would have contested the will, and so I 
determined to live, in order that she might benefit by 
my dying. I had but a thousand pounds then : since 
that my father has left me two more. I willed every 
shilling to her, as you may fancy, and settled it upon 
her when we married, as we did soon after. It was 
not for some time that I was allowed to see the poor 
girl's face, or, indeed, was aware of the horrid loss 
she had sustained. Fancy my agony, my dear fellow, 
when I saw that beautiful wreck I " 

There was something not a little affecting to think, 
in the conduct of this brave fellow, that he never 
once, as he told his story, seemed to allude to the 
possibility of his declining to marry a woman who 
was not the same as the woman he loved ; but that 
he was quite as faithful to her now, as he had been 
when captivated by the poor tawdry charms of the 
silly Miss of Leamington. It was hard that such a 
noble heart as this should be flung away upon yonder 
foul mass of greedy vanity. Was it hard, or not, that 
he should remain deceived in his obstinate humility, 
and continue to admire the selfish, silly being whom 
he had chosen to worship ? 

"I should have been appointed surgeon of the regi- 
ment," continued Dennis, " soon after, when it was 
ordered abroad to Jamaica, where it now is. But my 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 409 

wife would not hear of going, and said she would 
break her heart if she left her mother. So I retired 
on half-pay, and took this cottage ; and in case any 
practice should fall in my way — why, there is my 
name on the brass plate, and I 'm ready for anything 
that comes. But the only case that ever did come 
was one day when I was driving my wife in the 
chaise, and another, one night, of a beggar with a 
broken head. My wife makes me a present of a baby 
every year, and we've no debts; and between you 
and me and the* post, as long as my mother-in-law is 
out of the house, I 'm as happy as I need be." 

" What ! you and the old lady don't get on well ? " 
said I. 

" I can't say we do ; it 's not in nature, you know," 
said Dennis, with a faint grin. " She comes into the 
house, and turns it topsy-turvy. When she's here 
I'm obliged to sleep in the scullery. She's never 
paid her daughter's income since the first year, though 
she brags about her sacrifices as if she had ruined 
herself for Jemima ; and besides, when she 's here, 
there 's a whole clan of the Molloys, horse, foot, and 
dragoons, that are quartered upon us, and eat me out 
of house and home." 

" And is Molloy ville such a fine place as the widow 
described it?" asked I, laughing, and not a little 
curious. 

" Oh, a mighty fine place entirely ! " said Dennis. 
" There's the oak park of two hundred acres, the 
finest land ye ever saw, only they 've cut all the wood 
down. The garden in the old Molloy's time, they 
say, was the finest ever seen in the West of Ireland ; 
but they've taken all the glass to mend the house 
windows : and small blame to them either. There 's 
a clear rent-roll of three and fifty hundred a year, 



410 MEN'S W1VE& 

only it's in the hand of receivers; besides other 
debts, on which there is no land security." 

"Your cousin-in-law, Gastlereagh Molloy, won't 
come into a large fortune ? " 

" Oh, he 'U do very well " said Dennis. " As long 
as he can get credit, he 's not the fellow to stint him- 
self. Faith, I was fool enough to put my name to a 
bit of paper for him, and as they could not catch him 
in Mayo, they laid hold of me at Kingstown here. 
And there was a pretty to da Did n't Mrs. Gam say 
I was ruining her family, that 's all ? I paid it by 
instalments (for all my money is settled on Jemima) ; 
and Castlereagh, who 's an honorable fellow, offered 
me any satisfaction in life. Anyhow he could n't do 
more than that." 

" Of course not, and now you 're friends ? " 

" Yes, and he and his aunt have had a tiff, too ; and 
he abuses her properly, I warrant ye. He says that 
she carried about Jemima from place to place, and 
flung her at the head of every unmarried man in Eng- 
land a'most, — my poor Jemima, and she all the while 
dying in love with me ! As soon as she got over the 
small-pox — she took it at Fermoy — God bless her, I 
wish I'd been by to be her nurse-tender, — as soon as 
she was rid of it, the old lady said to Castlereagh, 
'Castlereagh, go to the bar'cks, and find out in the 
Army List where the 120th is.' Off she came to Cork 
hot foot It appears that while she was ill, Jemima's 
love for me showed itself in such a violent way that 
her mother was overcome, and promised that, should 
the dear child recover, she would try and bring us to- 
gether. Castlereagh says she would have gone after 
us to Jamaica." 

"I have no doubt she would," said I. 

"Could you have a stronger proof of love than 



DENNIS HAGGABTY'S WIFE 411 

that?" cried Dennis. "My dear girl's illness and 
frightful blindness have, of course, injured her health 
and her temper. She cannot in her position look to 
the children, you know, and so they come under my 
charge for the most part; and her temper is unequal, 
certainly. But you see what a sensitive, refined, ele- 
gant creature she is, and may fancy that she 's often 
put out by a rough fellow like me." 

Here Dennis left me, saying it was time to go and 
walk out the children ; and I think his story has mat- 
ter of some wholesome reflection in it for bachelors 
who are about to change their condition, or may con- 
sole some who are mourning their celibacy. Marry, 
gentlemen, if you like ; leave your comfortable dinner 
at the club for cold mutton and curl-papers at your 
home ; give up your books or pleasures, and take to 
yourselves wives and children ; but think well on what 
you do first, as I have no doubt you will after this ad- 
vice and example. Advice is always useful in matters 
of love; men always take it; they always follow 
other people's opinions, not their own : they always 
profit by example. When they see a pretty woman, 
and feel the. delicious madness of love coming over 
them, they always stop to calculate her temper, her 
money, their own money, or suitableness for the 
married life, — ha, ha, ha! Let us fool in this 
way no more. I have been in love forty-three times 
with all ranks and conditions of women, and would 
have married every time if they would have let me. 
How many wives had King Solomon the wisest of 
men ? And is not that story a warning to us that Love 
is master of the wisest ? It is only fools who defy 
him. 

I must come, however, to the last, and perhaps the 
saddest, part of poor Denny Haggarty's history. I 



412 MEN'S WIVES. 

met him once more, and in such a condition as made 
me determine to write this history. 

In the month of June last I happened to be at Rich- 
mond, a delightful little place of retreat ; and there, 
sunning himself upon the terrace, was my old friend 
of the 120th : he looked older, thinner, poorer, and 
more wretched than I had ever seen him. " What ! 
you have given up Kingstown ? " said I, shaking him 
by the hand. 

"Yes," says he. 

"And is my lady and your family here at 
Richmond?" 

"No," says he, with a sad shake of the head; and 
the poor fellow's hollow eyes filled with tears. 

"Good heavens, Denny! what's the matter?" 
said I. He was squeezing my hand like a vice as I 
spoke. 

" They 've left me ! " he burst out with a dreadful 
shout of passionate grief — a horrible scream which 
seemed to be wrenched out of his heart " Left me ! " 
said he, sinking down on a seat, and clinching his 
great fists, and shaking his lean arms wildly. " I 'm 
a wise man now, Mr. Fitz-Boodle. Jemima has gone 
away from me, and yet you know how I loved her, 
and how happy we were ! . I 've got nobody now ; but 
I'll die soon, that's one comfort: and to think it's 
she that '11 kill me after all ! " 

The story, which he told with a wild and furious 
lamentation such as is not known among men of 
our cooler country, and such as I don't like now to re- 
call, was a very simple one. The mother- in law had 
taken possession of the house, and had driven him 
from it. His property at his marriage was settled on 
his wife. She had never loved him, and told him this 
secret at last, and drove him out of doors with her 










"v 



•■^^ - 



A DESERTED HUSBAND. 



THE r-CW YCTK 
PUBLIC LIBRARY 



ASTOR .FMOX 
TlLDtN FOUNDATIONS. 



DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 413 

selfish scorn and ill temper. The boy had died; the 
girls were better, he said, brought up among the 
Molloys than they could be with him, and so he was 
quite alone in the world, and was living, or rather 
dying, on forty pounds a year. 

His troubles are very likely over by this time. The 
two fools who caused his misery will never read this 
history of him; they never read godless stories in 
magazines : and I wish, honest reader, that you and 
I went to church as much as they do. These people 
are not wicked because of their religious observances, 
but in 8piteoi them. They are too dull to understand 
humility, too blind to see a tender and simple heart 
under a rough ungainly bosom. They are sure that 
all their conduct towards my poor friend here has been 
perfectly righteous, and that they have given proofs of 
the most Christian virtue. Haggarty 's wife is consid- 
ered by her friends as a martyr to a savage husband, and 
her mother is the angel that has come to rescue her. All 
they did was to cheat him and desert him. And safe 
in that wonderful self-complacency with which the 
fools of this earth are endowed, they have not a single 
pang of conscience for their villany towards him, and 
consider their heartlessness as a proof and conse- 
quence of their spotless piety and virtue* 



THE END. 



THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY 
REFERENCE DEPARTMENT 



This book is under no circumstances to 
taken from the Bailding 



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